


I Need an Ocean (Between Me and My past)

by neverending_shenanigans



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorian Pavus is a Good Friend, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Horns, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I totally stole that tag from a friend but this is about as relevant as Solas is to this fic, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Me making up stuff about the Qun, NaNoWriMo, Nightmare to Wet Dream, Past Child Abuse, Qunari Culture and Customs, Slow Burn, Solas is the scenery on the way to get to Dorian, Spite Writing at its finest, Suicidal Thoughts, Tal-Vashoth Culture and Customs, Tal-Vashoth Inquisitor, Thank you Tag Wranglers, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, is the new, slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-01-27 20:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 69,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverending_shenanigans/pseuds/neverending_shenanigans
Summary: She is not their Herald. She is Bas. She is Tal-Vashoth. She is the former second-in-command of the Valo-Kas and she shouldn't be here. She wants no part in the business of these Andrastrians, and it is abundantly clear that they don't want her here either. But by this unlikely situation, her resolve may be tested and reforged.And he is the physical manifestation of all her fears. He wakes nightmares in her she thought she had long left behind, with her past, on the other side of the Ocean.He is all the more reason to leave. But you cannot escape a nightmare by running from it - not in the Fade or otherwise. So Issalara Adaar will have to confront her past and him, sooner rather than later.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Iron Bull, Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Comments: 160
Kudos: 160





	1. Pelt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeanutButterWhiskeyTime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeanutButterWhiskeyTime/gifts), [Mauisse_Flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauisse_Flowers/gifts).

> Welcome to my NaNoWriMo 2019. I am about 6k words behind as I am typing this but everything is fine. She types, as the room is on fire.  
Anyway, I am still reasonably hopeful that I can catch up and finish this. Because I am nothing if not driven by spite, and this is me spite writing. So here goes, the bone I have to pick with my favourite game today:
> 
> I don't want to play as a Vashoth who knows nothing of the Qun, okay. I want to play a Tal-Vashoth with a better grip of the Qun than I do. It is very much fine for characters we play to know more than we do, Bioware. Don't dumb down the dwarfs, the kossith or the elves for us, okay? 
> 
> So that's that. Also, I love angst, to no one's surprise at all, and slow burn stories. So let's throw a Tal-Vashoth Mage/Sarebaas Inquisitor with vivid nightmares of her childhood at this Ben-Hassrath with a violent past with Tal-Vashoths, a healthy "nope"-relationship with magic and the fade and a deeply rooted fear of becoming a mindless killing machine. You see what I did there? You know what's ahead, right?  
Alright. Enjoy, this, then. Whatever it is.

_"All you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. Don't ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash."_

* * *

** #1 **

“Hey, Snowflake, are you finished with your gruesome hobby yet?” Varric called out to her, and Lara looked up from the rest of the carcass of the dead bear at her feet. Barely more than bones remained after her magic had worked its way. She indeed just finished skinning the beast and had the pelt stuffed away in a large linen bag that was slung over her shoulder. Time to return to Haven.

The Seeker standing next to him made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded vaguely displeased as Lara came over to them. Lara couldn’t fathom why the woman was so unhappy about her pelting a bear. The Seeker was still a bit of a mystery. Lara had yet to figure out if the woman was perpetually displeased, or just always so in her presence.

Right now, the gaze of the seeker lingered on Lara’s arms and Lara looked down. Her arms were covered in blood up to her elbows, but so was the Seeker, from their battle. She doubted that the woman was of the type that frowned upon getting bloody. And surely, the woman had pelted a bear before as well. Or maybe she was just unhappy with Lara’s method.

Lara had perfected it over her years in the Valo-Kas, where an elven Tal-Vashoth mage had taught her the merits of using magic, her hands and her staff instead of a regular knife. She used the blood in the beast and had to get her arms up to her elbows into the body before she could start. But then it was matter of few minutes, and could be done with minimal muscle effort. Something that was important if you wanted to teach a child to fend for itself.

At any rate, the Seeker appeared to avoid looking at her, stomping her way ahead of the group. It was just as well. This was their second excursion into what these people called the Hinterlands, and the terrain was yet unfamiliar. They had initially come here to gather information on how to acquire horses for Haven, but had had no luck yet. Lara would have preferred for them to make camp here and continue on in the morning, but a raven had sought out the Seeker earlier and now she was antsy to get back to the ‘war council’.

“Can I ask you something, Snowflake?”

Lara had not noticed Varric letting himself fall back from the Seekers side until he was next to her. She admittedly lost track of him… _sometimes_. Not often, compared to how she lost track of the elf, who was walking slightly behind her, _a lot_. The elf was … tiny and quiet. Unlike the dwarf, who was even tinier and talkative. She could not decide which she preferred, but at the very least she was used to tiny and quiet.

The elf reminded her of one of the Tal-Vashoth in the Valo-Kas. _Harellan_, was what he had called himself after he had left the Qun. Not his name, he had told her. It was a curse among the Dalish, a word for someone who betrayed his kin. ‘_Might as well make it my name if everyone is going to call me that.’ _He was a betrayer twice over – betrayer to the Dalish first, when he had joined the Qun, and the betrayer of the Qun when he had left them as well. And he had always threatened to leave the Valo-Kas, too.

Lara remembered him fondly. But there was more than just the pointed ears and their relatively quiet demeanor that this elf and Harellan shared. Occasionally the mirth, occasionally the raised chin when met with disapproval. She saw that in this quiet elf, too. Especially when he spoke with the Seeker. He was proud - Lara had just not yet figured out of what.

“Snowflake? You there? Question, yes or no?” She glanced at Varric, who had patiently waited for a reply as she got lost in her memory. The dwarf was tinier and talkative, but Lara had noticed he was deceptively good at being silent if he chose to be so as well.

She shrugged. “There is nothing keeping you from it.” And there really wasn’t. Even if barely anyone had tried to talk to her so far. But that was fine. She was used to that. Lara paced herself, so that she matched the dwarf in speed as she waited for his question.

It came casually. “How did you know that Flissa has been trying to get her hands on a bear pelt for a while now?” He had an innocent expression on his face, his hands crossed over his chest.

For a moment, Lara was tempted to ask him how he had known that the pelt was for that woman – Flissa? – in the first place. The tone of his voice indicated curiosity, but if he knew who it was for, she suspected that he already knew why. Which made this an entirely pointless conversation. If he was not, in fact, merely interested in starting a conversation for the sake of it. She weighted that possibility, for a moment.

“I have ears. I listened. How else?”

The dwarf chuckled. “Yes, but you’ve not set foot in the Tavern in Haven once in the two weeks that you have been there yet. I am curious _where_ you listened.”

Lara tilted her head to one side, contemplating her reply. There was a chance that the dwarf was asking this to find out her pattern, where she was in Haven at which time. It was what she would do. It was what she had done, in fact, with most of the people she deemed dangerous enough in Haven. She had known a rough draft of the Seekers pattern within a fortnight after waking up in Haven.

But even if the dwarf was asking this trying to find a good time to ambush her, so far Lara was confident that she could take him. He was talented with this crossbow of his, but she was also talented with her staff. And magic. And he was …. Well, tiny. She had no real experience fighting dwarfs, to be honest, so there was the danger of underestimating him. The Valo-Kas had not encountered many of them, and those she had met had favored daggers over crossbows. It may not always a bonus to be large and strong by nature but it had proven useful in ambush situations so far.

“In the church.”

“What? Snowflake, I wasn’t aware you’re Andrastian.” Glacing at the dwarf, Lara was not able to tell if he was genuine or not. She sighed. She suspected there was a motiv for this conversation, even if she had not figured it out yet. That meant just… not answering would not end this. A more in depth explanation was in order, it seemed, if she was to have any peace before they reached Haven.

“… I am not. That woman prepares the food for the soldiers in the church, before it is distributed outside. She says it is easier there, because she has more space. I carried the pot once. She was kind to me.” She neither spat into her food, nor poisoned it, nor cowered in fear of her. She had even smiled at her, shyly, the last time she had come to retrieve her rations. And she had outright asked Lara if she liked the food, if it was good, as if her opinion mattered. The woman was very… soft.

“She talked to the woman who distributes resources. She mentioned needing pelt for shoes, for herself and others. She was refused, but I have the ability and the opportunity to provide it.”

“Ah,” the dwarf nodded, seemingly pleased with her reply. “That makes sense.” He looked up ahead with a glint in his eyes and Lara saw that the Seeker had been listening to their conversation, her head half turned, trying for subtlety. There was something in her expression that Lara could not quite place, but the human turned her head back forward before she could discern what it was.

It was then that Lara noticed that the elf, who seemingly avoided her to his best abilities so far, had also walked closer behind them, listening in. Unlike the Seeker, he had not even cared to mask it, and there was a look that transpired between him and Varric.

Lara looked down again to the dwarf, who had uncrossed his arms and whistled softly. Definitely dangerous, that one.

She should find out his pattern.


	2. Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the Mother Giselle scene. 
> 
> Note: I promise I won't often do these re-writings of scenes in the game, but seeing that Issalara really doesn't like to talk they are useful in giving you guys some insight. Also, I only do them if there's at least something significantly different to them. Might not always seem that way at first, but bear with me. The majority should be sort of in-between-these-scenes later on.

_Oh give no faith to show / Started to smile so I showed my teeth / No more than flesh and bone, doin' so much just to watch someone bleed_

* * *

**#2**

“Mother Giselle?” Lara approached the woman they had been pointed towards who had been kneeling at the wounded soldiers’ side. Human. Elderly. Upright posture, for the age her face seemed to be lined with. Then the woman spoke.

“I am. And you must be the one they’re calling the Herald of Andraste.” Orlesian, judging by the accent. Lara watched carefully, as the woman watched her. She did look her over, but her eyes lingered only shortly on her horns or the white paint on her face. She was most likely making an effort not to stare. That mattered.

Lara shifted her weight, slightly, and loosened her grip on her staff. An effort of a gesture on her part – she would not need the staff if this was an ambush. “Not through any choice of mine.”

Something about those words seemed to amuse the woman. “We seldom have much to say in our fate, I’m sad to say.”

The words seemed like innocent banter, but the tone of voice was unexpected. It reminded Lara of how someone speaking to a child. Indulgent. Amused, maybe, at shortsightedness. A lack of knowledge of the world. Aside from Harellan, no one had used that tone with her in years. Then again, this was a woman of the Chantry. Those that Lara had encountered seemed in the habit of treating the rest of this world as unknowing children they had to guide.

Lara weighted her options carefully and ignored how the Seeker cleared her throat behind her at the long pause. She could tell the woman that she disagreed. That this was too easy a way out for those who did not consider the weight and consequence of their actions and words. That it mattered that the title was not one she chose. That the people she had encountered so far who relied on ‘fate’ had rarely survived long. But she had met enough Andrastians in her life to know that ‘fate’ was something they equated with their Maker’s will. The woman would likely not agree. She kept her face neutral and opted not to engage, for now.

“Why am I here?”

If the woman was surprised at her curtness, she did not show it. She made a small gesture for Lara to follow her as they moved slightly away from the rest of the group. “I know of the chantry’s denouncement, and I am familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you; some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us….”

There was a pause, an option for Lara to speak up. She could tell that the woman was gauging her reaction, was hoping to hear her thoughts on what had happened at the conclave. Lara would not give it to her. She chose to remain quiet, merely inclined her head.

So the Mother Giselle continued. Her voice slightly harder now, if barely detectable. “Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason.” She paused in her walking and turned to fully face Lara. “Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

_Believe_. Lara could not help a small frown. The woman would have her pick up the title that these Andrastians had started to call her by and fill it. It mattered not to her that Lara had indicated no interested in the title. It likely didn’t matter at all what she said or thought. Like everyone, her own believes superseded whatever Lara herself thought or wanted.

This had not been a meeting to get to know her or really find out her stance. This plan was something she had thought up no matter who or what Lara was. She claimed for her not to be ‘a demon to be feared’ but truthfully her basis for that judgement was superficial. The woman’s priority was the Chantry and where she saw it headed.

But that was, in its turn, something that mattered to Lara, too. Because this indicated that the woman would have supported anyone in hopes of turning the Chantry away from a blind fear and hatred. It was the first indication of the woman’s character that she could like.

Lara crossed her arms over her chest, having come to a decision. “If they are open to listening to a Kossith mage, I am open to talking to them.”

The human woman smiled at her, which deepened the wrinkles in her face but also lit it up. It made her seem younger, in a very paradoxical way. “You needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.”

It reminded Lara of one of the basics of large battlers, when the Valo-Kas had come up against smaller armies. The first step always was to disperse them, break their formation. And then pick up the weakest enemies one by one. The woman didn’t know it, possibly, but she had a warriors mind. She had her goal in mind and was treating Lara – or maybe the whole Inquisition – like mercenaries for her agenda. Familiar territory. “Indeed.”

For a moment, both just stared at each other. “You are not a lady of many words. And different from what I expected, Herald.” Mother Giselle said, slowly. It was clearly she had come to her own judgement of Lara by now. “I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us … but I hope. Hope is what we need right now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us …. Or destroy us.”

The later words seemed to come with that hardened edge to her voice once more. But then the smile returned, and she inclined her head. “I will go to Haven and provide sister Leliana the names of those in the chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.” And with that, she turned and left Lara to her own thoughts, until the rest of the group stepped up to her once more.

Lara stared over the crossing for a moment, observing the bustle. Many people were injured and the village was clearly busting at the seams with refugees. Lara had seen places like these before. Then, after he had made up her mind how to proceed from here, she turned to Varric, the elf and the Seeker, who were all watching her with uninhibited interest.

“And?” The Seeker sounded excited and wary at the same time. Lara tilted her head, slightly. It seemed the Seeker was not sure if she had succeeded in her task of securing an ally. That was unsurprising. She just wondered if it was based on Lara’s action or the Seeker’s knowledge of the Chantry.

“She will assist us.” Then Lara turned, and walked towards the southwest of the camp.

“So she will meet us in Haven?” Cassandra persisted, catching up with Lara and walking next to her over to another hill, where Inquisition forces were camped. Lara nodded. “Then we should return there immediately.” Already impatience tinted her voice more than hope or relief. Still wary of her every action.

Maybe they should. It was what logic commanded. But the woman was old, and travelling slower than they were. She would likely gather her things first. There was time. And issues more pressing, for the moment.

“Later,” Lara said, pausing briefly. She looked at Cassandra, who stared at back at her, clearly vexed. “If you chose to leave, I will follow later.”

“What?!” The Seeker sounded indignant and the suggestion, and instead followed at her heel as Lara approached the soldier who seemed to be overlooking the work of the others, working and training. His posture left no doubt that he was in charge here. “Herald,” Cassandra grounded out between her teeth. “This is not the time to get distracted.” Lara noted her balled fists, but chose not to reply.

Usually it was what Shokraka, the leader of the Valo-Kas, had done after a larger battle: find the person in charge, offer clean-up assistance for a small fee. _Make sure to help those that you can and they will remember you when you return. Maybe hire you again, too_. _Make our actions matter more than our appearances or our past_.

The man introduced himself as Corporal Vale, and proved himself apt for his position. He had seemed surprised at the inquiry, but to his credit he had not had to think long about his reply - nor had he seemed at all fathomed by her or her presence. He very quickly laid out important issues for this village that required work. Not all of which they would be able to take care of immediately, but at least some of it. 

Before the night fell, Lara had the village supplied with quite enough Ram meat for the better part of the month, some herbs to help with the wounds until a healer could be located and had also used her method of making sure that the cleaned ram furs could be used as make-shift blankets until they had time to locate all the supply caches that Recruit Whittle had mentioned to them.

And before the night fell, the Lady Seeker did not look upon her arms bloodied up to her elbows with a frown anymore. In fact, the Seeker had fallen silent for the remainder of the day. As they camped, before they would make their way back to Haven at dawn, it was Varric who wandered over to her and offered to help her clean her staff. He did so mostly quiet, until it was time to return to his tent.

Then, briefly, he used the opportunity in her sitting and him standing next to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. She blamed it on being tired that she had not blocked the hand before it reached her. Lara tensed at the contact and looked up at him. A small smile was visible on his lips. “You have done a lot of good today, Snowflake,” and he winked, before he added, “You even made our Seeker speechless. I owe you an ale for that when we are back at Haven, alright?”

Lara stared back at him, for maybe longer than necessary. Then she inclined her head, allowed herself a small, quick smile. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to tagging this as #Herold y'all.


	3. Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do I spy with my little, little eye....

_Let it hurl, let the awful song be heard, Blue bird, I know your beat baby / But your secret is safe with me 'cause if secrets were like seeds? keep my body from the fire, hire a gardener for my grave_

* * *

**#3**

There was a candle lit in her cot. It was the first thing that Lara noticed, from afar. She was tempted to first look in through the window before entering – or possibly not entering, if she did not like who she saw. Say, for example, the haughty elf. _Solas_. Who was beginning to unnerve her from the way he looked at her, seemed to catalogue her every move when she cast spells. Who kept _staring_ and sometimes _frowning_.

But they had just returned from Orlais, picking up not only a noble born human who behaved exactly as noble born humans usually did in her experience and _another_ weird tiny elf woman. Who also kept staring, but in an entirely different way that Lara was not sure she liked better. But was surely much more unusual. People normally were not excited in any pleased manner about the fact that she was a Kosith. Not that there had not been some who had been excited_, pleasantly_, over the years.

But it was another set of eyes trained constantly on her that she had to consider. Another set of motives to weigh. Another person who was in close proximity that she had to understand and prepare herself against. It was beginning to become tiresome.

Lara sighed. Yes, she was tired. She wanted rest, for at least a little while, until she would undoubtedly be asked to attend another meeting in the War Room at dawn. With the Seeker, who was subtly starting to be a bit more comfortable around her. With the Ambassador, who thought that she was subtle in masking how much of a diplomatic disaster Lara presented. With the former Templar, who Lara thought might not even be trying to be subtle in considering her, an ‘untrained and unchained Qunari mage’, a risk. And with the Spymaster, who unnerved Lara the most, because unlike those other two she was actually very subtle.

Whoever had decided to approach her at this time better be prepared for a foul mood.

But when she pushed open the door to the cot, hand gripped around her staff, it was the Spymaster herself who was sitting on her bed. Her violet scarf was missing, for once, and she looked almost informal as she was reading in the book that the Seeker had deposited in this cot. A copy of Varric’s book on a Champion that Cassandra felt should be a mandatory read for anyone part of this venture.

Lara waited for an acknowledgement of her presence. The Spymaster turned another page. After waiting for another moment, weighting her options, Lara finally decided to close the door behind her and shrug out of her dark red coat. She put both the coat and the staff down on the desk, and began removing her shoes. She had put them near the fire when the Spymaster finally closed the book.

There was a mild smile on her face as she got up, arms loosely crossed on her back. “Welcome back, Herald.”

Lara sighed again. She was used to the Seeker stubbornly insisting to call her that by now. Varric defaulted to Snowflake for reasons she had not quite figured out, and Solas didn’t call her anything most of the time. Or if he had to, he reluctantly used her name, like she had asked him. Like she had asked _everyone_. This word – Herald – was severely misplaced. These Andrastians and their presumptuous impositions.

She made a sound of vague acknowledgement in the back of her throat as she began removing her bags, and armor. It was a long and tedious process to peel all the layers she wore on their excursions, and she was not about to politely wait around for the Spymaster to leave again and _then_ start. She’d not get any sleep at all. And Lara liked her sleep.

Of course, there was no getting her foul mood past the spymaster. The woman cut any other niceties and held out a piece of folded paper to her. A letter. Opened. “Yesterday one of Varric’s agents came to bring this to you.”

“And you read it,” Lara observed, neither surprised nor really angered. Maybe tired. She recognized the handwriting – but then again, there were not many who would write to her to this place. Or in Qunlat. She took the letter from Leliana.

“I am not going to insult either of us and try to deny that. But it was, among other things, to ensure that no one was trying to kill you. The letter was sealed with magic. It is lucky for us that Madame de Fer arrived before it.” The Spymaster seemed almost… amused. Likely at the irony of Lara providing the letter opener. “She had no trouble opening it for us. And we were able to read it. But the meaning of the message was lost to us. I was hoping you would be willing to share it?”

That was a bold request. Or possibly no request at all. Lara opened the note, slowly, and scanned it. Of course. At least she understood why the Spymaster was confused by the message. Or pretended to be confused. Herahrad had written to her of the weather.

Lara folded it again, and placed it next to her staff. She continued shedding her layers. “Why do you ask, Spymaster. Surely the agent told you what my request of Varric was.”

She was down to her smallcloth now, and walked to a cabinet, retrieving the clothes that she usually slept in. It was a luxury that she was slowly getting used to. Much more pleasant than sleeping in armor.

Leliana sat herself down on the bed again. “You asked him to contact a known smuggler in Antiva, asking him about the weather. And now you get a weather report back, in Qunlat. You will understand that this is a little, let’s say _unnerving_, to some.”

For a moment, Lara contemplated that reply. The Spymaster had called him a smuggler. But if her network was half as impressive as Varric had made it sound, surely she knew that the Flying Nug was not a regular dwarfen smuggler. It would be a gamble to try and pass it off as a request for some smuggled goods. And luck had not been in her favour recently.

With another deep sigh, Lara retrieved a box of lotion from one of her pouches. She sat herself down on the floor and started massaging it into her horns, beginning at the base. Might as well continue with the luxury treatment if time awake was forced upon her. Then Lara started talking. “Nug is a smuggler, and he is not. He trades in information, for mercenaries. We do not have homes to send letters to, usually. My brother is part of his network, so asking him about the weather is asking for information on how my brother fares. He told me that he is doing as he has always been doing.”

Upon Leliana’s dubious expression, Lara recited part of what had been in the message. “_Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun_. ‘The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless.’ It is… part of a ... common saying.” She nodded towards the letter. “You are free to find someone else to translate it for you, if you can.”

For a while, both remained silent, as Lara continued treating her horns. Then, Leliana got up from the bed once more. “I was not aware that you had family, Herald. My spies only know of you from your time with the Valo-Kas. Do you have a mother and father as well?”

Lara stared at the red-head. This woman outright asked her about weakspots. But if she chose withhold this, the woman would dig. She would either way, the questions was just how deep. She managed a curt shrug. “I _had_ … a father. He went on a ship and never returned. I know no mother. I have a brother, and I have a sister. My brother is a mercenary across the sea. My sister lives on a farm in Rivain with two cats and a dog. One of the Ferelden war dogs.”

For a moment, it seemed like the Spymaster would smile, but instead she inclined her head. “Interesting. Well, good night, Herald.” Leliana left, but not without picking up the letter first.

Lara remained seated on the ground, listening to the footsteps in the snow as Leliana left. Then she allowed herself to pause, and lean her back against the wall. She closed her eyes. She hated lying, and lying to a spymaster seemed like a dreadfully stupid thing to do. But her ‘family’, as Leliana had called it, was her own business. She preferred the Inquisition to stay out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for today. I'll try to at least update weekly, maybe twice a week if this NaNo goes well. I very much appreciate motivational help though. Like, really. I've not finished NaNo in the last five years so all bets are off. I really don't want to promise to much. Okay? Okay.


	4. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than one storm is brewing at the storm coast here.  
.  
.  
.  
Yeah, i'll show myself out for this one. Storm Coast scene. Come prepared.

_But still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man's beliefs_

* * *

**#4**

Lara had been surprised when a representative of a mercenary group had shown up in Haven to offer the Inquisition their services. It was not how the Valo-Kas had operated. He had seemed competent, though, at a first glance. Armor that had clearly seen battle, but was just as clearly carefully maintained. Helm carried under the arm as a show of trust and respect.

He had approached her outside of the church, but she had directed him towards the war room after he had stated his business. It was not her decision to make, as she also had no idea what the funds of this Inquisition were. He had been surprised, but had followed her directions.

A short while later the Seeker had approach her to inform her that the Commander thought it wise to see what these Bull’s chargers were capable of. They had a lot of recruits, but many of them were untrained. A good mercenary company could do wonders for them.

And considering that she came from a mercenary company of some reputation it had been decided that she was to accompany the Seeker to that Storm Coast. Varric had proclaimed that he wouldn’t miss a good show for the world, and Solas had offered to come along as reinforcement in case it was, despite all signs, a trap.

She had felt curious about them as they had walked through the rain towards the cliff, looking down to the beach. Below a battle had already been in progress – those Tevinter mages against who she assumed to be the Bull’s Chargers.

Varric had picked up his Crossbow, ready to head down an join the fray, but Lara had held him back, to the surprise of everyone – herself included. It wasn’t exactly her place, but if she was here to assess them then it was best not to join, as she quietly said. “Observe. If they are worth anything to the Inquisition, this should not present a challenge.”

And it didn’t. They were organized, working quickly and efficiently. A much smaller group than her former one, but their tactics were sound. The Seeker, too, seemed impressed. It was then that a voice boomed from below. “Chargers, stand down!”

Lara leaned forward just a little, seeking to whom the voice belonged. Varric did the same. He elbowed her leg. “Hey, Snowflake. You ever met that crew?”

The man – the kossith - had been standing in her blind spot. Big horns, bare chested, with an eyepatch. She shook her head. She’d remember this one. He stood out. The voice of her mentor came up unprompted, in her memory. _Don’t work in Orlais or Fereldan. They don’t like our kind there. _Why was this group here?

Tal-Vashoth? No. They tended to stick together, usually. Otherwise one tended to become an easy target – for people who hated their kind, for people who hunted them for their horns, for the Qun. He was clearly the only one of his group with horns. Vasoth, maybe? Maybe one who didn’t know it better? Though how someone so… untouched should become leader of a mercenrary group was not something she could explain.

“We should go down to meet them,” Cassandra said, already beginning to simply slide down the hill. The elf made a face, but followed suit.

Varric was the one who sighed, shaking his head. “No consideration for those of us with the shorter legs, eh? Fine, but if Bianca get’s hurt, I will hurt you guys.”

Lara followed last, after a moment of hesitation. It was too late to turn back, and she was curious, if nothing else.

By the time they had crossed the beach, the man that had come to them in Haven and the kossith were talking already. He cut an even more impressive figure up close. There were a good deal of scars and it was clear how he had earned them. The muscle tissue and the broad chest indicated that he could swing the massive axe on his back. He looked over towards them, and his gaze fell immediately on her.

His reaction surprised her, startled her into a pause – he started laughing.

“Damn, it’s true. Oh the Chantry must love you. A Qunari mercenary is the herald of Andraste. Who’d’a thought.“

This comment earned him a frown of the Seeker, who made a noise at the back of her throat. Lara turned her head slightly, looking towards the other woman. But she was making no move to lead this conversation, and the kossith was looking at her – still grinning. It was a wide, easy grin.

She contemplated how to go about this for a second. He had called her ‘Qunari’. Rumors about her. He either assumed her to be of the Qun, which would likely make him Vashoth, or he was one of those Tal-Vashoth who thought themselves as still part of the Order of their faith. Either way, it seemed safter to not dissuade him of either notion.

She inclined her head, if ever so slightly. “Shenedan, Sten.” She ignored that both the Seeker and Varric looked up at her. She also ignored that Solas noticeably turned away with an expression of disgust.

The one reaction that mattered was that the grin on the face of the kossith faltered, if only a bit. “Yeah.” There was an audible pause, the voice lower now than his booming laughter earlier. “Let’s try to keep that to a minimum. Makes the boys twitchy.” He stepped closer as he said that, as if conspiratorial. Lara fought her urge to step back. It was … unusual to meet someone taller than her, these days. She wondered about his words. So his people were uncomfortable with the Qun.

Then he turned away, gestured for her to follow. She did, as did Cassandra. Varric instead, turned and practically strolled over to where the kegs were being opened. To her surprise, Solas chose to follow Varric.

He sat down on a nearby stone, gestured to the human approaching them again. “I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

She nodded to the human, he grinned at her. “Good to see you again.” Then he turned his attention to the kossith. “Throatcutters are done, chief.”

The kossith frowned. “Already? Have ‘em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.” A low chuckle followed his last words.

“None taken,” the man said with a shrug. “Least a bastard knows who his mother was.” And has he was turning, he added, “Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

Lara could hardly care about that remark, even though she did notice that the kossith observed her after it. It was that word again. _Qunari._ So his men assumed him Qunari. Or knew him to be it? Was he, truly, of the faith? But why. Why would he be _here_. Why did he assume her to be one, too?

“So…,” the kossith started, finally seeming to acknowledge Cassandra, too. He was looking back and forth between them. “You’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it. And I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

“What do you mean, ‘expensive’? How much is this going to cost us?” The Seeker was frowning, finally using her chance to step into the conversation.

“You personally? Nothing.” He was looking towards Lara again, with a grin. “Unless you wanna buy drinks later.” It was hard to tell because of the eyepatch, but it felt like he had just winked at her.

Lara simply stared. _‘Qunari’_ the voice in the back of her mind whispered. Something was off. Something was off here. He did not seem like one of _them_ at all.

After a moment, he looked back towards the Seeker. “Your ambassador – what’s her name – Josephine? We’d go through her and get the payments set up.” And again, his eyes slipped to her. “The gold will take care of itself. Don’t worry about that. All that matters is we’re worth it.”

He was … misreading her, she realized. He was trying to reassure _her_. He had picked up – _how_, a part of her wondered – that she was uneasy. That was why he was saying this to ease her mind, wrongly assuming it was the money she was worried about.

The Seeker suddenly reached out for Lara’s arm, who instinctively avoided it by turning to the side just a bit, her attention snapping to the woman. She was giving her an earnest look. “Well? What do you think? You are the expert. They seem to fight well.”

Lara hesitated, had to physically restrain herself from looking back towards the kossith. He had been reading her. Something was off.

_Arvaraad_, a part of her mind instinctively supplied. Sareebas hunter, Tal-Vasoth hunter. How many had she encountered – three, four? He was here to take her down. The Qun had heard of a mage Tal-Vashoth with the Inquisition and he was here to end her. But they usually attacked on sight. _Beresaad_? They were sent here with specific missions and it was impossible to find out what it was. A Beresaad would be fine, as long as his mission would not collide with theirs. But that was the crux – you only found out after it was too late. He might well have a mission to destroy the Inquisition.

But maybe she was just overreacting. She always did when she met another kossith. He did not behave at all like a member of the Qun. She shouldn’t base it just on his choice of words.

So after a moment, she inclined her head, slightly. “They are a capable company.”

The kossith laughed, drawing back both Lara’s and the Seeker’s attention towards himself. “My boys are excellent! But you’re not just getting them. You’re getting _me_. You-” and his eye was trained on Lara, “need a frontline bodyguard. I’m your man. Whatever it is.” He got up, made a few steps towards them. “Demons, dragons? The bigger the better.”

He was standing close now. Again Lara fought the urge to step back, and she was almost sure by now that he knew. It felt like he was … expecting her to step back. She raised her chin, slightly, crossed her arms. He grinned, but then his expression became serious. “And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off.”

He paused, and then he leaned forward, voice lowered. “Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Lara felt the breath catch in the back of her throat. She forced the air out of her lungs, trying to keep up an even breath. What to say? Too much knowledge could give her away. But she would not lie. She frowned. Nodded. She tried to remain silent, but if he noticed he chose to ignore it. He simply stared at her, silently demanding an answer. Finally, between gritted teeth, she said two words, evenly, veiling her feelings about them. “Enforcers. Spies.”

He leaned back just a little. “Yeah. That’s them. Or, well, _us_.”

Lara felt herself step back before she could do anything about it, but his expression didn’t give anything away about his thoughts on it. Instead, he almost evenly continued with an explanation about the Ben-Hassrath’s interests in this region – the Breach and out of control magic. 

He was revealing his orders to them – seemingly – but she hardly heard anything, the sound of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears. Her mind was racing, instincts were rebelling inside her, fight and flight at the same time.

This man was her death sentence. There was no coming out alive of this for her now. A Ben-Hassrath was worse than an Arvaraad. They had a far wider reach. They were far more persistent. If you killed one of them, a Dreadnaught would follow in their wake. They were the long and hidden arm of the Qun, those with the greatest zeal and the most dangerous set of skills. Arvaraad were taught to hate the outside world, Beresaad were tasked with observing and learning from it – but Ben-Hassrath were taught to understand and undermine it.

_A trap_, a voice inside her whispered. _This had been a trap all along and she had walked right into it. She had let her guard down._

She wanted to spit in his face at his offer. She wanted to grab her staff and turn him into a statue of ice for her to smash. She wanted to scream. But if she gave into it, this would be the beginning of the end. No matter what he said, the Qun had turned Its eyes and ears towards the Inquisition. Killing him, turning him away – it would accomplish nothing. The Qun did not take no for an answer. Never had, and never would. On the heels of this would follow a dreadnaught or spies, but either way, she would not be safe again. With this one, she at least knew the face of the person who would put the blade at the back of her skull to cut off her horns.

She made a step backwards, looked towards the sea – foolishly almost expecting to see a dreadnaught in the fog. Of course, the sea was stormy but empty. The panic was closing up her throat.

Surprisingly, the Seeker saved her. She seemed to be fed up with being ignored. Anger in her voice, she stepped between them, forcer herself into the line of sight. “Why would a spy reveal his orders to us? Why would you tell us this?”

Lara did not look at them, still stared out onto the sea, trying to control her breathing. It took all of her concentration and willpower to be able to do as much as she listened to his reply. Ben-Hassrath. Trained to read every hint of body language. She had probably already given him too much information.

“Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I’m on your side. And besides, you’d’ve figured me out sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.”

The Seeker made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “No. This is not worth it.” She seemed ready to leave and Lara was almost instinctively relieved.

“Not to butt in uninvited, but what’s in these reports you’re offering to share?” Her head snapped towards the new voice. Varric had found his way towards them. She hadn’t noticed. When had he joined them? He was standing just slightly behind her, arms crossed, almost casually leaning on his crossbow. _Almost_.

She kept her eyes on Varric as the Ben-Hassrath replied. “Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It’s a bit of everything. Alone they’re not much, but if your spymaster is worth the name, she’ll put them to good use.”

“_She_?” Cassandra sounded surprised. Alarmed even.

The Ben-Hassrath laughed. “I did a little research. Plus, I’ve always had a weakness for redheads.” It was almost casual how he revealed how much he knew. He did casual well. “So?”

Varric looked up at her. Based on the sound of the stones beneath her heels, so was the Seeker. Lara closed her eyes, briefly, focusing on her breathing. When had they started to turn to her for their choices? When had she begun to give in and make them? She did not want this.

No one broke the silence, and finally, Lara found she had gathered herself enough. There was no going back from this – only forward. She opened her eyes and turned slightly, meeting The Iron Bull’s eye, her whole boy shifting into a battle-ready position. She was not trying to do it subtly, either.

“You run your reports past the Spymaster before sending them. You send nothing she doesn’t approve.” She made a step forward, itching to draw her staff, but she didn’t. He held his ground just as she had earlier. She lowered her voice, just as he had. She also didn’t hold back anymore, allowed the air around them to cool down rapidly. “If this is a trick, if you compromise the Inquisition, I will _end_ you.” Her breath was dancing in the small distance between their faces now.

He didn’t even blink. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He held her gaze. She couldn’t read it. Amused? Interested? Intrigued? Calculating? And what was he reading in her expression? Ralshokra had taught her well not to reveal her emotions to an untrained eye, but she was not under the illusion that she could fool an enforcer of the Qun. _Ben-Hassrath. A fucking Ben-Hassrath. _

It could hardly have lasted longer than a moment, though it felt far too long. Then she turned, abruptly, walking off towards the hill. She couldn’t wait to make sure that the other’s kept up. Her control was hanging by a thread and it was threatening to slip.

Behind her, she heard the Ben-Hassrath call out cheerfully. “The Chargers just got hired!”

She fought the urge to throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it begins. I think most of what i have about the distictions between Tal-Vashoth, Vashoth and the different Qun Jobs are still accurate (or as accurate as "based on the wiki because the games remain very contradictory sometimes" can be). If they are not, feel free to point it out, but also know that sooner or later ther will be bullshiter-y anyway.


	5. Bas I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nightmare.

**#5**

_He was standing over her, blooded axe in hand, sneering at her. His face painted red with the blood of his enemies. His men had formed a circle around her. His white hair was braided back tightly on his skull, blood tickling from the head wound she had given him. _

_“Ben-Hassrath was right about you. There is no reeducating you.” He could barely speek Rivain, his voice heavy with the accent. He switched to Qunlat. “Katara, bas! Anaan essam Qun!“_

_The Arvaraad raised his axe, but the moment he had taken to taunt her had granted her just enough time to find a way out. She rolled to the side, and as expected one of his Sten stepped forward to kick at her. She grabbed his ankle with one hand and the tip of the sword on his back. It cut into the palm of her hand, but the pain was bearable. She pulled herself through between his legs as he fell, and muttered a spell, pulling together the last of her energy as the others moved to cut off her path. A thick wall of ice emerged from the ground, trembling as her every limbs were. It wouldn’t last long._

_Lara ran. She ran, and ran, but could still hear them behind her. She looked over her shoulder once. He was on her heels. He had an eyepatch now. His Chargers were following him._

_She ran until her legs gave out, the angry cries behind her still in her ears. She knew what would come next._

_Bas._

_Bas._

_Bas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henceforth, my nightmare-minis shall be all titled "Bas". Just in case you are not a a fan of them, you can skip 'em. They will get progressively longer and uglier.


	6. Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are words to be had, from one mercenary to another.

_Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion, no more alone or myself could I be_

* * *

**#6**

It was shortly after daybreak when Lara grabbed her staff and left her hut. Some of the people of Haven were up already and watching her. No one questioned anymore why she walked around in full armor, her staff always at her side. But it was clear they took note of the lack of sleep on her face, her hair for once not pulled up tightly, her face not prepared carefully for battle.

Which was precisely why she could not put this off. Sleep was important to be able to work with your full capacities. And nightmares had been haunting her waking and dreaming world ever since that encounter at the Storm Coast.

“Ah, morning, Herald!” The human greeted her, as soon as she stepped outside. Lara was not surprised to see him sitting on the corner of that stone wall, watching the place where some of the troops were warming up for when the Commander would soon start their training.

Lara nodded in greeting, stepping closer. “Issalara, please. Or Adaar.”

“Don’t like the ‘Herald’ thing then?”

“No.”

“Alright. Got it."

"And you?"

"Hm? Oh, my name, you mean? I prefer Krem. It's a little simpler than Cremissius.”

She was carefully considered how to strike up a conversation – not really her forte – when the guy thankfully made it easy for her and started one instead. “Pardon the question, but is it true that you were second in command with the Valo-Kas mercernaries?”

Once more, Lara nodded. “Yes.” And then, in an effort, she added. “You heard of …” _us_ “… them?”

The man – Krem – nodded. “Yeah. You guys are a very prolific group in some regions. Especially in Antiva and Rivain. With quite the reputation for large-scale destruction. Truth be told, me and the boys always hoped we’d encounter you on the battlefield some time.” He grinned with the last words. They could have been a threat, in any other context. But they just reminded Lara of the friendly banter between their chief and other mercenary groups. “Of course, that doesn’t change that the Bull’s Chargers are the finest group you’ll find between here and the Anderfels.”

After a moment’s hesitation, and with a tight grip on her staff, Lara sat down on the stoneledge as well, with more than an arm length of distance between herself and Krem. “The name does not ring any bells.” Again, she struggled, but made an effort not to sound rude. “I don’t… remember names well.”

It did not seem that the human minded. The grin didn’t leave his face, at any rate. “No problem, Herald. I mean, Adaar. We’ll just have to prove our worth to you then. And I don’t mind talking about us one bit. Do you have any questions?”

Lara weighted the question, for a moment. There were many questions, but it made sense to approach this first from a tactical point of view. She had to keep the interest of this Inquisition in mind first before battling her own demons.

“Do the Chargers specialize in anything on the battle field?”

“We’re good shock troops or skirmishers.” Then he started listing, with a gesture. “We’ve got archers for hitting enemy infantry, Dalish with ma-more archery, and skinner and her people on the flanks. Rocky handles fortifications and traps, and Stitches keeps us all fighting. They mostly hold back. I lead the front-line fighters with Grim, and the Chief goes wherever he can hit something.” The last bit lit up Krem’s whole face. Lara was a bit surprised at the willing transparency.

“Balanced,” she added, after a hesitation. It was clear in his tone of voice that there was a lot of affection for each member of their group. It made her feel… something. Not homesick, but … she wondered about them.

“Yep. The Chief is pretty good at making sure we’re well rounded. What about you guys?” Krem asked, after a moment of silence.

His question was innocent and only fair, to some degree, after his honesty. And yet it gave her pause. Their chief, had not liked to reveal too much of their tactics. Not even to their clients. Even if she wasn’t sure if she could return to them after this ordeal was over, it felt wrong to talk about it. Still, it seemed dishonest to withhold it. And a small part of her ached with the memory.

“Blitzkrieg. Shokrakar, our leader, had a disdain for long, drawn out battles. They tend to cost civilian lives and end in dishonor. He has a strict code.” Lara knew that there was a smile on her face when she thought of him. It was hard to avoid it. She had known him for most of her life, like another older brother. He was a good man.

“Sounds reasonable,” Krem nodded. “Chief can be strict, too. He doesn’t want us mistaken for some bandits. Sounds like they would get along.”

‘_I doubt it’_ was on the tip of her tongue, but Lara swallowed it.

“What about the rest?” The human pressed.

“Three waves. We had a few rogues to scout, with our third in command in charge of them. Then Shokrakar led the majority of our members, our warriors, to spearhead a quick and concentrated attack on enemy forces. I often lead the mages in a second wave for air support and, should it become necessary, retreat.” Lara unconsciously started to loosen the wrapping on the grip of her staff and re-wrap it. A silence followed her words, and it stretched, until she finally looked over to Krem.

There is hesitation on his face, something guarded. It wasn’t alarmed, exactly, but not far from it. Did he not approve of the tactics? She raised an eyebrow at him, which he noticed. “You are not pleased with the answer.”

Krem shook his head, then nodded. In a much quieter voice, he asked once more. “What about the _people_?”

Ah. His attitude surprised her. He was a mercernary after all, he knew that their groups fluctuated. But maybe this was less about her group and more about his? How she would treat them?

Lara tilted her head backwards, looking at the sky. She allowed herself the memory, and it flooded in as soon as she opened the gates. She had mentioned some of it to Varric, once. But this was only the second time she spoke of her group as people.

“We only had four rouges. Garas always had had just a bit too much ale but the hand on his bow is always steady. Brain is the tactician of them and enjoys making a lot of jokes about the sky falling down on him and he loudly enjoys Adahlen’s company. Adahlen claims to prefer the company of traps to his company, but he is not as hard as he seems. Skip,…” she paused. Skip who liked to follow her around ever since she had saved his life from a blood-mages ritual. Skip who morbidly claimed he owed her a blood-debt. “Skip likely died at the conclave.”

Krem opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Lara pressed on. She had to, or else she would not speak of the rest. “Our warriors are mostly Tal-Vashoth, some Vashoth and some humans. Anaan and Talan are stone-faces, sour siblings, proud. Bertes-taar, who is loud, and boastful and full of easy laughs. Eva and Sara, lovers who are saving up to buy a ship to sail the world together. Banal is afraid of little and angry at a lot of things. Katara is never angry but always ready to hit things with a laugh on her face. Tic is the smallest and quietest of them and the one you should fear most if you ever encounter him on the battle field. “

She inhaled deeply, once, before pressing on. “The mages were my charges. Some Tal-Vashoth, some elves, two humans. Vat, Tic’s twin, who has a quick temper and is a fire you should not play with. Kith, who is as fast as the lightning she calls down. Ral enjoys complaining about her age to mask her strength. A master of deception and one of my teachers. She led the group before she stepped down for Shokrakar. She was Ralshokra once, Tamassran, and raised Anaan, Talan and the chief." Also Lara, in part, but she chose not to include that information. "Harellan, my other teacher, and storyteller and a dreamer. Halani, a Dalish who lost her Clan to a massacre and the best healer you could hope for.”

She exhaled, slowly. Closed her eyes for just a moment, to steady herself and close herself off again. Truthfully, she was not sure how many of them survived the conclave. She was sure that Skip must have died because of how close he was to her, but what of Kith and Katara?

“Sounds like a good bunch,” Krem spoke up, softly. “You miss ‘em?”

Lara nodded before she could reconsider showing this weakness.

For a moment – for a while – they just remained seated, watching as the sun rose further. When the Commander emerged from the gates, he paused to greet them, but he must have sensed that something was off, and instead he proceeded towards the gathered troops. He began his training regimen as Krem and Lara watched.

Quietly, Krem started commenting, pointing out mistakes they made. It was clear he couldn’t help himself and Lara agreed with most of his assessment. The fact was that a lot of the people who had flocked to Haven had not been holding a weapon before. Some came more to be protected and were now only just learning to protect themselves.

Then there was a rustling sound and Krem looked up. Lara followed his gaze and fought the urge to get up, get into battle position. “Yo, chief! Done snoring? Adaar and I were just talking. What do you think of the new recruits?”

When the Qunari looked at her, Lara made sure to look past him, towards the forge. _Don’t make eye contact with them_, Ralshokra’s voice was ringing in her ears. _Never let them look into your soul_. She didn’t need to meet his eye to notice that his posture was tense.

His gaze wandered off of her, towards the training ground. “All things considered, they’ve got a good form. They can’t make a decent shield wall yet, but give it some time. Cullen’s putting his Templar training to good use.”

Krem looked over to the grounds with renewed interest. “The Commander is a Templar? Haven’t fought any of those in years. How’d you know? He’s not wearing the armor.”

“He angles the shield just a bit down. Wait for it – yeah, there it goes. It’s what I keep telling you to do, Krem.”

“Ah, right,” Krem nodded. “Because of fire or acid and that magic stuff. Then again, you don’t use a shield at all, or even wear a shirt, so you don’t get to lecture me on that front, Chief.”

Bull snorted. “Ah, but there’s a difference between how much you and I can take, Krem de la Crème.”

Lara stared at the troops, focusing to keep her breathing even. All Qunari learned to fight mages. He was not bringing it up on purpose. Probably.

“By the way, were just talking about the Valo-Kas and mercenary tactics.”

“Oh yeah?” Bull was looking at her again. She knew, without looking. The grip on her staff tightened. This was not a good idea. She was not ready to confront him yet. She needed to have herself together better for this.

Krem carried on, oblivious to her internal conflict. “Got me thinking. Maybe we should help the Commander train the new recruits later. We’d have them sorted in no time and then the Inquisition would be in a lot stronger position. What do you say, Adaar?”

“Maybe,” she said, quietly. Non-commital. _Don’t agree to a place or time, don’t be a target for an ambush from them_.

“The Inquisition has a much bigger problem right now, Krem, and we can’t help with that.” Bull was speaking to Krem, as if she wasn’t there. But he was watching her. Always watching her.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“They’ve got no leader. No Inquisitor.”

Bait. He was baiting her.

“Huh,” Krem sounded sceptical. “Seems to me like they have a lot of leaders, actually. But whatever you say.”

Again, a silence followed. She had meant to ask him. Ask him more about his role in the Ben-Hassrath. Ask him about his _true_ purpose here. Ask more about his reports, about what he knew of them. And those rumors. What it said about her. But she couldn’t. Not without the blade of her staff pressed to his throat. And she got the impression that he was just waiting for her to say something. It felt like a trap, again. It was unnerving.

After a moment of contemplating her options, Issalara got up again, slowly, deliberately. The one one moved around a Druffalo. Before she could excuse herself, though, he broke the silence. “Adaar,” the Qunari said, slowly. “_Weapon_.”

She paused, didn’t say a word. Focused on breathing.

“It’s a good name. Who picked that name for you?” Casually. Friendly. He was good at his job.

She looked over his shoulder towards the Horizon. “Who picked Iron Bull?”

“Myself. You know how it is.” A small pause, inviting agreement that never came. “I needed one and I like hitting things. And it is ‘_the_’ Iron Bull. Technically. I like having an article at the front. It makes it sound like I’m not even a person, just a mindless weapon, an implement of destruction.” That tone of his. As if it was a simple matter. Krem even laughed at it.

Lara didn’t laugh. She turned her head away from him, sharply, staring at the bleeding red sky. A tool. A tool of what? What kind of Ben-Hassrath was he? The kind that broke other people's minds? A reeducator? Or a weapon of destruction? What kind of tool had the long arm of the Qun send before her this time?

But this was what he was, or saw himself as, functioned as. This was his purpose in his order. A mindless tool, not a person. To be put in chains, to be cut, to be … not. “Just as the Qun commands,” she said slowly. Stilted. Bitter? She was giving him an opening she had not meant to give. It had slipped from her lips before she could help it.

“Yes,” he said, evenly. “Exactly. But you are Vashoth, right? You are not Qunari. There’s a world of difference between us.”

She couldn’t help it, she turned her head again and stared at the space between his horns, rolling back her shoulders and widening her stance as she did so. Then she met his gaze. “Is there.” There was no malice on his face, no hard edges, his hand not on a weapon ready to split her skull.

“Yes. Your parents probably told you as much, right? Or maybe they didn’t. Tal-Vashoth turned their back on the Qun, decided they’d rather live like savages.” He almost spit out the last word, the first true emotion she could sense. “The Qun is not perfect, but at least there’s some sense to it.”

She said nothing, just staring at him. Now that she had met his gaze, there was no looking away. Krem was looking back and forth between them, but Lara couldn't allow herself to get distracted by it. Not that she wasn't glad that he was seated between them. Even if he was loyal to his Chief, if need be, she could use him as a shield.

The Iron Bull stared back at her, and there was a slight frown. “Look, if you’re worried I’m going to attack you, don’t be. I never met your chief, but I know of the Valo-Kas. You’re not completely senseless. You’re not the kind I hate.”

She tilted her head, slightly. The kind he hated. He differentiated so easily. Her voice was low, barely audible. Enunciating each word carefully. “But I _am_. I am not Vashoth, The Iron Bull. I am Tal-Vashoth. And I am Saarebas.” She raised her chin, if only so slightly. She could practically feel his eye slip towards the faint scars left on her lips, barely visible if you didn’t know what to look for. When his gaze returned to hers, it was different. Good. She gave him no room to speak. “If you are Ben-Hassrath, it is by design of your Qun not your choice. I am everything you and _your kind_ hate.”

And with that, she gripped her staff tightly, turned to head back to the gate. Paused one last time. One last look over her shouder. “But if you are worried I am going to attack you, don’t be.”

Only the sound of the snow crunching under her heals was heard as she left them behind, returned inside the walls of the camp. For the second time, she was practically running away from him. This had been a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

Why had she felt the need to reveal herself? Why reveal what she had carefully hidden from the Spymaster so far? Why point him to the fact that he should want her leashed and collared and on a ship to Seheron? _Why_?

Instead of returning to her hut, she headed for the tent of the dwarf. She needed distance. She needed a distraction. She needed something to do. And something to hit. All of this at once would be ideal.

“Master Thetras,” she called out softly. She heard some grunting from inside. “We need to head out to Redcliff. Immediately.”


	7. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Redcliff is not as welcoming as hoped for.  
Or: Wibbly wobbly timey wimey prelude.

_There's no plan / There's no hand on the rein / As Mack explained, there will be darkness again_

* * *

**#7**

“I cannot accept this.”

Lara drudged on, upwards, ignoring the Seeker on her heels.

“First, you hastily decide to leave Haven earlier than planned and without due preparation. And then you decide that we should abandon the Templars without talking to them, siding with the mages?”

“Seeker, give Snowflake some benefit of the doubt, all right? She clearly had her reasons for leaving. The people needed help. And she hasn’t said she’s decided anything at all yet,” Varric was speaking up on her behalf. He had done that a couple of times already. It had not gone unnoticed.

“We know where this road leads. It is obvious,” the voice of the Seeker was laced with venom. “Whether she admits it or not.”

She almost expects the Seeker to charge at her, with her shield. Battle it out. It’s what some – _most_ \- of the others in the Valo-Kas would have done. But the woman was much more controlled, despite how it sometimes seemed on the battlefield. Even this outburst of anger was uncharacteristic. Otherwise, Lara would not have turned her back towards the woman at all.

And she was not completely wrong.

After that confrontation with The Iron Bull Lara had led the Varric, The Seeker and Sera back to the Crossroads, and after that in a wild spree across the Hinterlands for the better part of four days, collecting the rations that the small town needed. They had helped other people, too, and it had been good. It had reminded her of who she was, even if she did it without pay. She was Bas, but she was not a monster. And she also was not the Herald.

And at the beginning the Seeker had not been entirely disapproving. Especially not after they had managed to locate the Horse Master and had come to a sort-of agreement. There were certain tasks to take care of yet, but he did not seem unwilling to help them.

The discontent on Lady Penthaghast’s part had begun a day earlier, when Lara had refused to return to Haven to begin the necessary preparations for these tasks. She had, instead, asked the dwarven scout – Lace Harding – to send word of what they had achieved.

And eversince she seemed to question the purpose of their being here. Lara heard her make that displeasing sound at the lack of an answer once more. She had come to her own conclusions now, which were neither right nor wrong. They were indeed headed for the town that the leader of the mages had invited them to. But Lara had no desire to decide anything – it was simply not her place.

But she felt it was necessary that both sides be heard – and the Templars had made themselves heard in Val Royaux and in the form of the Commander. The Seeker was more sympathetic to the Templars as well.

And also, she felt she needed to see for herself. Needed a reminder that Bas Sareebas were not what the Qun – what her Arvaraad - had thought them to be.

Lara faltered in her steps, briefly. _Are you making this job a personal one, girl?_ She could hear Harellan’s reprimand. _Keep your emotions in check. Cary out the objective, but don’t get carried away or you’ll end up involved, sucked in, weakened by it_.

“The Village is just ahead,” the seeker intoned, her anger much more in check.

“Something’s ahead alright,” Sera added, catching up with Lara, pointing towards a flash of light.

Lara had been too distracted to notice what was going on ahead – foolishly distracted – and had also been too deep in thought to notice a sudden spike of pain in the palm of her hand. Had she grown used to the pain so quickly? Lara glanced at the glimmer in her palm, coming to life in the presence of yet another of these rifts.

“Sound the alarm at the first sign of demons!” The voice of a woman crying out ahead of them carried over, and Lara drew her staff from its holster. She heard the others follow her suit, drawing their respective weapons.

The woman guarding the gate near the rift tried to deter them, but only briefly. They threw themselves into battle to deter the spirits coming through and weaken the rift. They usually made work of these apparitions without a manifested form quickly – but this one seemed to go – slower. Physically slower, in places.

At the end of the battle, Lara was much more out of breath than she should have been.

“Shite, what was that?” Sera flopped to the ground unceremoniously, looking back and forth between Lara and the Seeker. “You guys noticed it too, right? That timey-wimey bullshit?”

The Seeker frowned, but it did not seem directed at the elven girl on the ground. “We don’t know what these rifts can do. That one appeared to alter the time around it.” She sounded almost in awe of the effect, albeit reluctantly so.

“But you’ll have to admit it is a bit weird that this is the first time we’ve seen one of these things do something like that,” Varric spoke up, before he held out an arrow to Sera he had plucked from the ground .

Cassandra nodded, hesitantly. Lara watched the Seeker closely, for a moment. She almost expected her to point out their proximity to the rebel mages. It wouldn’t be entirely impossible that magic played a part in this, after all. Her knowledge of those Seekers was slim, but were they not enemies of anything magical in nature?

Sera put the arrow Varric had handed to her back in her quiver and then pulled herself off of the ground. “Weird my ass. This is magic bullshit. But that’s why we’re here, right?” She looked to Lara, challenge in her eyes.

Lara looked back at her, inclined her head slowly. “Right.” Then she turned towards the gate. “It is over. You can open the gate.”

On the other side, a scout in the garbs of the Inquisition stepped up, seemingly appearing from behind a tree. He greeted them with his fist to his chest and a respectful bow of his head. Lara recognized him as Elijah, one of the men who worked with Harding. She likely had sent him ahead on their behalf. Lara liked him. He was young, idealistic. In short, foolish. But very loyal to Harding. He wore a troubled expression. “We’ve spread word the Inquisition was coming. But you should know that no one here was expecting us.”

Lara frowned and fought the urge to draw her staff once more. “Not even the Grand Enchanter?” Fleetingly, she looked towards the road ahead. But if this was an ambush, a trap, it would not be laid out here. Another figure, however, was hurrying towards them. One not in their garbs. Lara looked briefly towards Varric nodded towards that figure. Varric nodded back at her. He had noticed them too, and he was casually keeping his crossbow ready.

Elijah shrugged. “If she was, she hasn’t told anyone. We’ve arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations.”

“Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!” The figure – an elven man in brown mage garbs and with gloves more ornate than what Lara had seen so far on the rebels – had reached them in a light run. He only slowed as he stood barely two feet away. “We are sorry to inconvenience you. Had we known earlier of your visit… alas, Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t yet arrived. He’s expected shortly.”

Lara shifted her weight a little. Not a threat, this one, she surmised, but an unexpected factor. A variable she had not been prepared for. His demeanor was polite but guarded. Especially when his eyes fixated on her horns, briefly, before he executed a light bow. It was not the gaze of one surprised or unaccustomed to a Kossith. His words also were a puzzle. _Magister_ Alexius. She knew of Magisters – of course she did. A tevene title. She had never actually met anyone from the region, but Ral had battled there in her days and shared tales. Especially tales of why a group of Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth mercenaries had better avoid the region.

“We are here to speak to Grand Enchanter Fiona.”

The man did not seem fathomed by this. “Of course. And you may speak with the _former_ Grand Enchanter in the meantime. Until Magister Alexius arrives. “ He bowed yet again, before turning on his heels and leaving with another quick jog.

Lara waited, briefly, until he was out of earshot, before she turned to the Elijah. “Send word of this interaction to Haven. They should make inquiries about this Magister Alexius,” Lara said without hesitation. If there was indeed a trap ahead it was necessary that someone be informed of their whereabouts and a possible responsible party.

“Yeah, something weird is going on here,” Varric said, lowering Bianca.

Cassandra had resumed her stoicism. “We’ll just have to talk to the Grand Enchanter to find out.”

Lara merely nods, but does not put her staff back as they proceed to follow the path. She has a bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort of interlude chapter. There will be considerable plot skipped. I'm sparing you and me some angst, and we've all played the scenes quite often enough. And I did promise more "between the scenes" chapters, so that's what i'm doing.


	8. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bond is formed through hardship and weakness.

_I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you  
_

* * *

**#8**

“Ah, there you are. The war council is over, I presume?”

Issalara looked up from the bloodied bandages on the floor towards the door. The newest addition to their ranks was leaning in the doorway, observing her closely. Dorian managed to seem completely casual, but she had barely been here a few minutes. He must have been around and waiting. It should have alarmed her or made her uncomfortable that he had – but it didn’t. Not a lot, at least.

She stared back at him, noting that he was not carrying a staff, then nodded, after a moment.

“Splendid. I was beginning to worry that this dashing Templar of yours was tearing you to pieces and burying you somewhere in the woods. So can I assume we are headed to this Breach soon?”

What an odd thought, of the Commander overpowering her. Again, she nodded. Her right hand and lower arm were in agony, the burned flesh exposed to the air. She wanted to bathe the wound, drape it. But she also could not bring herself to ask Dorian to leave. They had been in this nightmare of a future for a brief time together, but it had been strangely … bonding. She felt like in his debt.

So instead, she found herself doing something she had not done so far for anyone else in this Inquisition. She gestured for him to come in. And after a moment where he himself seemed surprised, he did, closing the door behind him.

“In two, maybe three days. The mages need to rest and find their way here from Redcliff. I will inform you in time, if you still wish to come.”

“Naturally,” Dorian looked around the room, drinking it in, before practically strolling over and dropping himself in the only chair in the room. “Nice little place you have here. Cozy, one might say, in your rustic southerner fashion.” Then he looked at her. She had trouble reading his expression. Expectantly, maybe.

Lara remained where she was, in the middle of the room, unsure of where to move herself. And what to do. She still avoided seeking others out when they were not carrying out tasks and missions. Mostly it was others coming to her, aside from Varric. She had grown more comfortable with him, but that was in large parts because he always carried their conversations. The only other person she regularly went to was Flissa. Often to drop of things she brought back to Haven for her.

Finally, Dorian seemed to catch on. He gestured towards her arm. “Are you going to take care of that ghastly wound, finally? We can chat as you work, don’t stop on my account. You shouldn’t have waited this long to treat it, if you want my opinion. It is quite fascinating that our wounds carried over, though, isn’t it.”

Interesting was not what she would have called it, but she nodded anyway, staring down at her arm as if noticing it only now. She contemplated drinking another health potion. They had been rare in the Valo-Kas and it still felt wasteful to take them at all. As for healing herself, she had never been very adept at this type of magic. And she was still exhausted, even if the whole time travel ordeal was behind them almost four hours by now.

So she turned around, reaching for the wooden box on the table, where fresh bandages had been placed for her. She had requested these for their next travel to the Hinterlands. Before she can start to wrap one around the palm and arm, however, she heard Dorian move. His steps were light, but his ornate leather clothing rustles and the buckles give off a soft clinking sound. She whirled around before she could catch herself. Dorian was less than an arm length behind her.

Surprisingly, Dorian did not seemed fathomed or scared by the giant horned woman turning on him suddenly. Instead, the look he was giving her was one of disapproval. “Don’t tell me you mean to bandage it?”

Lara hesitated. _Don’t reveal your weaknesses_. But then, she shrugged lightly. “I am not a strong healer.”

Dorian snorted, without hesitation. “Oh, clearly. You are too forceful. I have to say, your way of casting magic is quite unique and uniquely destructive. I thought it was the barbaric way people in the south cast, but I think it is just you, isn’t it.”

Had anyone else said it, Lara would have taken it for a comment meant to offend. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone would have likened her to a brute, a horned barbarian, a butcher. But somehow it did not sting. Instead, she found herself replying with a shrug. “We cannot all dance across the battlefield like pruned Kockari Birds.”

Dorian gave out a short laugh. “I would pay good money to see you try.” Then he held out his hands. “Let me do it, then. We can’t have the Herald of Andraste of all people go to battle in such a state. And who knows what will be thrown at us next.”

It felt vulnerable, but Lara found herself following his command before she could question why that thought wasn’t as pressing as it usually was. Dorian didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, magic practically seeping from his palms into her skin as soon his palm held hers. “Ouch, this is quite disgusting. And badly burned. I do wonder why no one had this taken care of earlier. It seems foolish to have you debate war strategy like this. You are of no use to them if you get yourself an infected wound, you know.” He gave her a stern look, and Lara instinctively felt like apologizing. How absurd.

She could point out to him that she had had her reasons for not pointing out her wounds to these people, but she wasn’t quite sure he would understand. Within few hours of knowing them, he had decided to help. Within mere moments of knowing her, he had decided to save her life – pledged himself, really, to protect her._ Protect_. Not a thought that crossed most people’s mind when meeting her.

Dorian gently pushed up her sleeve, and practically hissed a word she did not recognize but understood as probably something negative. “How far up does this go? I’m afraid I’ll have to get you out of that jacked and shirt. I promise I’ll take you out to dinner later.” He winked, and Lara simply stared at him. Dorian clicked his tongue, a sound of impatience. Lara complied, and began to shrug out of the jacket. Then, after inspecting her stained and damaged shirt underneath, she tore off the damaged sleeve.

Dorian laughed, then whistled. “Bold fashion statement. I like it.” Then he again invaded her personal space, stepping much closer as he now began working on her lower arm and elbow.

Lara couldn’t help but study his face as he worked, completely lost in his task. He did not seem like a person who hesitated to approach other people. Not the type who had been trained to always expect a dagger between his shoulder blade at any given moment.

And somehow, in his whole manner, he made her wish that she had not been either. She was a little startled herself when she realized that she felt ashamed of this in his presence.

Then, finally, Dorian stepped back. With his own hands, he gingerly turned her arm both ways, expecting it, and then nodding to himself. “There, all better now.” He gave her arm a pat. “See how easy that was? Do tell me the next time you get hurt if you can’t be trusted to take care of it yourself. I would hate for you to die before we get this over with.” He winked at her.

Lara nodded. And that seemed enough for him. He stretched, and yawned.

“I’ll be off to that abominable little hut they gave me. I shall see you in the morning.” He gave her arm a short squeeze and turned towards the door.

Without thinking and against better instinct she reached out for him, but stopped herself before she could. He must have noticed from the corner of his eyes, though, because he stopped and turned towards her, one eyebrow raised.

“Thank you.” It came out much more quiet than anticipated. “For… everything.”

Dorian’s expression seemed puzzled, then softened. “It was my pleasure.”

This time she didn’t reach out to stop him, but she stared after him even long after the door had fallen shut. She was more in his debt than she had previously realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may as well say it up front: There will be lots of friendship bonding chapters between Dorian and Lara because I am secretly not-so-secretly of the opinion that the real (if need be platonic) romance is the friendship between the Quiz and Dorian in any given game. And it's not slow burn at all because this wonderful idiot just up and swore to protect you and became ride-or-die in practically no time at all. Just because I have a Quiz romance Bull doesn't detract from that.


	9. Bas II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares tinged in red.

**#9**

_Her first nightmare was of Varric. She could hardly bear to see him like this – a broken man, torn asunder His body wrought with red crystalline shapes. She had also not been aware that she had come to care for him this much already. The Seeker was in a cell next to him. She was more angry this time. Both of them were. A red, burning hell had been eating them alive from the inside; each of them looked at her with rightful hatred in their eyes when she appeared. She hadn’t been there, she had turned out everything they had expected of her. This was her fault. She had been a coward, too selfishly focused on not getting involved. She started running through the halls of Redcliff castle, but only to find the hallways stretch, all the other cells occupied by the Valo-Kas and her siblings. Movement became harder with each step, until she finally realized that the Red Lyrium had started to eat at her, too. She awoke in cold sweat._

_Her second nightmare was the Seeker again, invoking her god, hacking away at Lara with a glowing sword. Instead of blood, red lyrium was gushing from her wounds, festering them. She watched herself as if from above, possessed and overpowering Cassandra, tearing flesh from her limbs with her bare teeth. Then she was pulled off of her and he stood there, bloodied axe in hand. He had not even been there. But he was there now, in her nightmare once more, sneering at her in Qunlat, bringing her to a ship where they were waiting for her. She screamed until her lips were sewn shut once more._

_Bas._

_Bas._

_Bas._

This time, she awoke with a whimper.


	10. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When sleep eludes us, we seek other comforts.

_Never feel too good in crowds / with folks around, when they're playing_

* * *

**#10**

She had no idea how late it was. Past midnight, but a few hours from dawn, probably. Haven was dead around her, the campfire’s all gone out. The only sign of life was the glowing, gaping wound in the sky and the twin in her hand, both of which she ignored. They haunted her every waking moment, they did not have to haunt her in the night as well.

She focused on the music and the voices coming from the Tavern, instead, slightly muffled.

Lara had not joined the people in the Tavern, so far. She had no stomach for the food or for people, more often than not. But she had already woken in cold sweat, thrown up behind her hut. If she could not sleep, there was very little she could have the stomach for right now.

And she felt drawn to the soft glow escaping from beneath the closed doors and shuttered window. Or maybe it was the music. She could almost imagine Halani sitting on Anaan’s lap, head tugged beneath his jaw and Anaan’s eyes closed. She would sing for him, mostly, but all of them had drawn close whenever she had done so.

Most of them were Dalish tunes that none but Harellan understood, but they were soothing. She had taught Lara some of them, two or three maybe, though she had not Halani’s light voice like silver bells. Initially Lara had learned it to indulge the tiny woman. She knew she had made a lot of work for her, because of all the mages Lara had been the most prone to get badly injured.

Strangely, Lara recognized the melody of the song the woman in the Tavern was singing to, even if the words were not in Dalish. Lara drew closer, rounding the hut until she found a window where she could understand the most and sat down beneath it, in the snow. Back leaned against the wall, she closed her eyes, listening to what probably was a translation of the song she knew.

_“…We held together the fragile sky, to keep our way of life. Once we raised up our chalice in victory. Once we sat in the light of our dreams.”_

She had not heard of the others. She wondered. But there was no way to reach them, she had no idea where they were. And Shokrakar did not let Nug send word about him. She would have to wait for them to come to her.

But even if they did – what could she do? Try as she might, there was no denying that she was bound to this cause more strongly than ever.

As Dorian had said: she could not let this future come to pass. She had been given a purpose, whether she liked it or not. She was… once more, a tool, in someone else’s plan. Lara opened her eyes, looked at the soft green glow that shone through the gloves she had put on. She had feared it, before. Resented it even. She did not know what she felt now. Resignation?

She closed her eyes again, and wondered what Ral would say to her now, in this situation. She’d laugh. _Bad Luck’s stuck to your horns_, she’d always said. Shokrakar would say that there is no point questioning the why. It is what it is. She had always hoped to one day be half as calm as he was. Brain would recommend she’d just get the hand chopped off and leave. Half joke, half true, possibly.

The bard struck up another song, one Lara did not recognize in words or melody. She tried to listen to the song instead of the heartache. _“__Empress of fire, In the reign of the lion,…”_

“Shit, Snowflake? That you?”

Lara’s head shot up. She felt … odd. Her head heavier.

Had she dozed off? The melody was a different one again. _“__Craven master spy, with heart remiss For those who could not find the truth.”_

And standing just at the corner was Varric, hands in his pockets, staring at her. It was too dark to fully make out his expression, but Lara could imagine it based on the incredulity in his voice.

“What in Andraste’s name are you doing out here? You’re not taking a piss, too, are you?”

Lara got up and felt that the coldness had settled into her bones. She rarely felt cold, but she could feel the stiffness in her joints. She shook her head. So she had indeed been asleep. Finally. But not for long, probably. “I was listening.”

“To Maryden, you mean? Yeah, the kid has a nice voice. But I’m sure she would like to know you like her songs. Why are you listening _here_?”

Lara turned her head slightly, walking over. “Is this song about the Spymaster?”

Varric looked a little worse for wear, shirt unbuttoned more than usually. He seemed tired and he stifled a yawn. She could smell the alcohol on his breath despite the considerable height difference. “Yeah. She plans to write one about each of us. I mean, the inner circle, so to speak. Of the Inquisition.”

He reached up and patted her hip. “You know what? Go outside, get some hot mead. That’ll warn you up. Tell Flissa to put it on my tab. I owe you one anway.”

Lara frowned, looked towards the tavern. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you owe me ‘one’?”

Lara only looked back towards Varric when she felt his other hand settle on the other side of her hip. He never was quite this… touchy, when sober. But right now he was looking up at her with something that would probably pass as a serious expression.

“Well, Snowflake. For one, you made it back alive here. Sparkler told me a bit of what went down for you guys in Redcliff and it didn’t sound pretty. If I had to venture a guess, that’s the reason why you’re out here, with dark eye bags, and Sparkler’s in there with his fifth cup of wine.”

Once more, the dwarf was dangerously more perceptive than expected. This should be all the more reason to return to her hut. If she was exhausted enough to fall asleep in the open, with all her sides unprotected and unguarded … and yet. When she looked towards her hut, she felt trepidation.

“I see.”

“Yeah,” he let go of her hips. “Flissa and I are teaching him Wicked Grace, southerner style. Seems that they have different rules in Tevinter and they involve an awful lot of what we call cheating here. But what do I know, right? And even so, he doesn’t cheat half as outrageously as some other people I know.” For a mere moment, Varric swayed a little, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

Then his gaze returned to hers. “Do you know how to play?”

Lara shook her head. There had been other games in the Valo-Kas. Dice games had been preferred to card games. Varric sighed. “Snowflake, what do I even do with you. Move your ass in there.” He actually swatted at her ass now. Lara didn’t know what to say. He had not behaved like this so far. She frowned, and stared at him, for a moment.

Just once. She would let it slide. And she actually turned, and walked towards the Tavern.

When she entered, she was glad to find the place a lot more quiet than it had been earlier. Most tables were empty, safe for one with two snoring soldiers and the other occupied by Dorian, Flissa and Sera. Oh, and there was whom she assumed to be the Ministrel at another empty table. She switched back and forth between playing and taking notes.

Remembering Varric’s words, Lara meant to do as he had said and tell the woman that she enjoyed her songs. Before she could, however, Flissa noticed her. With a big, wide smile the human woman practically jumped up and skipped over to her, red curls bouncing around her head.

“Lady Adaar! It is good to see you here. I was worried, I admit. I had not seen you in a while.” 

“I am sorry to have worried you.”

Flissa’s eyes widened, and she reached up, trying to tame her hair with her hands. Colour rose to her cheeks. Was she embarrassed? “O-oh! No! No no, don’t worry! I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you have better things to do. So many people depend on you. I am just glad to see you, is all. Ah, ehm, can I get you anything?”

Lara nodded. “Something warm.”

This seemed to be absolutely delightful to her. Flissa actually clapped her hands, then suddenly grabbed one of Lara’s much larger ones. Lara felt her eyes drift to it, but for the second time in a short while, she did not pull back.

“Oh, I have just the thing. You like sweet drinks, yes?” As soon as Lara nodded, Flissa started pulling her towards the counter, where she immediately started to busy herself. “It is a little strong, but there is nothing better to warm you up. It is straight from Orzamar, you know. Master Tethras pulled some strings for me. He is a kind man.”

“Oh yes, a real treasure, that dwarf,” Dorian drawled, a little sarcastically. He had stepped up behind them, and leaned heavily on the counter.

Immediately Lara noticed what Varric had said himself, too. Dorian did look restless, sleepless. Her face must look very similar.

“Fancy meeting you here, Adaar,” Dorian swirled his own red beverage in the glass in his hand. “You look like shit.”

Lara raised an eyebrow at him, and looked him over.

Dorian burst into laughter. “Oh, touché.” Then he took a sip. “Please tell me you are here to relieve me of these two fools. They insist on teaching me something I already know.”

“So I have heard.”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Don’t tell me! The dwarf roped you into this, too, didn’t he?” He threw his hands up. “Fine. One more round, then! But that’s it!”

“You say that now, but when you lose, you’ll insist on a do-over again, Pavus,” Varric said from behind them. He threw her a wink.

Varric would be right, as it turned out. It was almost another hour before their group parted, with the Ministrel firmly asleep on her own notes. But the warmth of the dwarven alcohol finally gave the mindless comfort Lara had been seeking.

She returned to her hut and slept for a couple of hours in exhausted peace, before the sun rose and shed it’s ugly light on the green, gaping hole in the sky once more.


	11. Bas III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares' taste of salt.

**#11**

_Bas, he said, standing over her and the other five._

_Lips sewn shut, but soundless screams emitting from their throats, terror in their eyes. He had judged them, he had leashed them, he held their fates in his hands._

_Bas, he said, when he returned without the fifth one, back from the shore._

_The salt was burning in her eyes, on her tongue, in her lungs, on her very skin. The storm was howling outside as it was in her chest._

_Bas, he said, when hes palm left her mouth, one last look on them._

_She whispered it back and it burned on the tip of her freshly grown tongue._

_Bas, her sister whispered, as she ended her own life._

_It was in the smell of her blood, too._

_Bas, he said, when the Arvaraad raised his axe above her head._

_Bas, he said, as he spit into her face._

_Bas, he said, as he looked upon her with one eye._

_Bas._


	12. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaching an understanding with someone on something when you least expect it.

_Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword_   
_Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know_

* * *

**#12**

Magic changed everything around it. The air when it was released seemed to hold a static that made the hair at the back of her neck rise, that she could feel at the tip of her tongue when she inhaled and that tickled her nose with a peculiar odorless smell.

Harellan had said it was a testament to her fine attunement and her honing of her senses. He had told her to foster this ability and make sure to never lose it, because it might just one day safe her life.

And it was a reverse of what she felt now as a sense of a void made her turn around sharply, mere moments before the Commander reached her atop the hill, overlooking the village below and the arrival of the Former Grand Enchanter with her mages. They were later than expected and it was past nightfall. Lara had come out here when she had noticed the approach.

He must have been looking for her. Not just because this hill was just too out of the way for someone to come by on a walk. It was in his steps, his expression. It was also in that feeling of a void. It was what she felt around the Seeker, around most Templars, around him –but it was stronger now than it had been before. He must have fortified himself.

“They are here,” he called out, still scaling the hill. He must have known that this was what she had been looking at? Lara chose not to reply and waited until he had reached her.

When he did, however, he just stared at the group of mages. So she did, too, briefly.

Some were teenagers, some old and frail. Most were carrying few items of belonging, but they walked with heads raised high. When Lara had come up here to watch, it had been with a feeling of trepidation and hope at the same time. It had felt just like helping those people at the crossroad had. Just like working with the Valo-Kas had. She had felt the sense of a purpose – the ability to do good, to put herself to good use. No herald, just Adaar. 

The emotions on the Commander’s face were not as wildly different from hers as she had expected – frustration, yes, but something else. Especially as he watched the group of younger mages, who were clearly relieved to be here.

And yet, when he turned towards her, his face seemed to shut down, his brows knitting together. “I heard of your fight with Madam de Fer.”

“Ah.” Lara expected him to say more, but he didn’t. And she wasn’t sure what he expected her to say about it. She had made her point clear towards the other mage when she had approach her – verbally assaulted her, really – on her stance towards the mages and their uprising.

On any other day, Lara would have reacted differently. It had been the Orlesian woman’s bad luck to approach her on a day where Lara had slept so little, and where a mild hangover plagued her.

Lara still could not feel sorry for her. Each of Madam de Fer's words had been one of disdain and arrogance, despite how she had coated it in lofty phrases and cushioned it between “my dear” and “dear Herald”. It had really been a mere matter of the Orlesian woman trying to gage her position on the politics she seemed so involved in. And she had clearly figured that masking it in statements about the supposed need of mages to be governed and the world’s righteous fear of them, as well as thinly veiled questions about the Qun and its treatment of mages, was better than just ask Issalara directly.

It was her way of talking, and she had possibly not meant anything by it, initially. But Lara had had no patience for it, and had not felt like answering open-ended riddles. When Lara had demanded a direct question she had clearly offended the other woman.

Her more blunt words, however, had not helped the matter either – for now she had begun talking to Lara the way that a lot of nobles the Valo-Kas had been working for had: Like the horned giant must be slow, must be taught her place in the world. She had never had time or patience for such behavior then either. So Lara had simply turned to leave.

This had been a wrong move. The woman had raise her voice at her and Lara had ended up lowering her voice in turn, and she had laid out her position on the matter quite clearly: She did not care for the chantry, nor for any system at all that treated people like cattle, be that mages or any other group of people. She didn’t need magic to kill someone, and neither did anyone else. People did not need be possessed to be dangerous. Anyone who thought locking away people made them safer to be around was a fool. A fool that deserved whatever result came of it.

They had only stopped when the Spymaster had emerged from a room, the ambassador and Mother Giselle on her heels. Lara had left without another word as Madam de Fer had slipped back into her iron skin and had said, with a razor blade smile, that they had only had a 'mild disagreement on matters not both of them truely understood, it would seem'.

Was he here to ask her to apologize to that woman? She understood that she was of some reputation and position. But Lara had made her decision on that even before he came. She would not bow to that woman. She had nothing she felt regret over.

Instead, the Commander crossed his arms. “I don’t know what it was about, but you should be careful about that one. Now that we have decided to … side with the mages, we might need her to help make order of this mess.” He gestured towards the group of people below.

Her mess. He wasn’t saying it, but it was clear that this was what he thought. She remembered his initial anger at her decision – and it really had been her decision, no one else’s. She had not consulted them, and he had been right to be angry about it.

Even beyond that, she supposed that it was natural for a Templar not to want to side with whom he had been trained to see as an enemy.

“That aside, you should also be careful for yourself. I have heard tales about her. She is not an enemy I would wish on anyone, and you may already have more than enough.”

Lara waited for the Commander to say more, but he didn't. It was strange. Had he come here to warn her about Madam de Fer? If so, why? Did he think her incapable of defending herself? Did he worry about the Inquisition's reputation? Like many of the people in this organisation, he was still a mystery to her.

She knew his pattern, as much as he had one. And he was more of a creature of habit than some others. He trained himself, he trained the recruits, he went to the war room. He made his round around the town, he met with the supplies officer. But also more than the other members of the war council, he was approached by other people. What had swayed her more negative impression was that Flissa very clearly liked him. She went out of her way to talk to him.

Even beyond that, things constantly threw of his path, his schedule. It was clear that his men looked up to him, some even seemed to be here solely for him. It was the kind of admiration that her Chief had commanded over their group. Blind trust, loyal faith.

She wondered about that when she observed him. He was very much a creature she could not understand. Had lived a life as a Templar that seemed the opposite of everything she had known. She had instinctively decided to avoid him in her first weeks here, and he had done nothing to dissuade her - he had not tried to seek her out, he had seemed as wary of her as she of him. He had, however, also not been outright hostile. Something she had only come to realize with time.

For a while, it seemed both of them were just watching the town below in silence. Then she heard him inhale deeply, and he turned himself more towards her again.

"I may have been unfair, earlier. When I said you had ‘turned the mages lose’."

Lara remained silent. She did not turn, nor look at him. She chose to wait.

"When you returned from Redcliff, I was angry. I verbally attack you for making a choice when a choice had to be made. But Leliana said you were raised by mercenaries and never were in a Circle before they fell. I had not realized that from your position, you may have not seen a choice at all.”

Lara remained stoic. She was careful not to move a muscle.

"You see, as a Templar, we learn that magic is to be governed. That mages have to be watched - not just for the people's safety, but for their own. It seemed ludicrous to me for most of my life that mages could not understand it. After all, we risk a lot to be able to help them. I even though them ungrateful for a period in my life. I cannot deny it. And then Kirkwall-" He paused. He cleared his throat.

She had no knowledge of what a Templar upbringing was. She also still only had a passing knowledge of the Kirkwall incident. She would have to ask Varric about it. Maybe she could understand the Commander then. And understand the loyalty he inspired.

“At any rate, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I am sorry for my behavior. I will try to… explain myself better, in the future. And I will not stand in the way of this. I will trust your choice.” He turned, ready to leave.

But finally, Lara turned as well. She had come to the realization that she was far more involved with this organization than she wanted to already. And Shokrakar would kill her himself if she half-assed this just to returned to the Valo-Kas. So it seemed… appropriate. To try. To extend to him the same thing he offered her.

“I did not see a choice, but not because I was never in a Circle. I did not have a good life before I became a mercenary. I know oppression and torture in the name of Order and Peace. And that should never be an option.”

The Commander looked at her with a very mixed expression. He was possibly not pleased with her assessment. But he chose not to speak on it.

Lara continued, making a couple of steps downhill from where he stood. “This aside, you were not wrong to accuse me of having disregarded you and the others. I did. And even if a choice needs to be made, this is not the right way. It will not happen again.” She bowed. It had to be lower, to present her back neck to him as she had once to Shokrakar.

When she looked up, he seemed equally surprised and puzzled. He pushed a hand through his hair, rubbing the base of his neck, at loss for words. Finally, he said, almost quietly, “Thank you.”

Once more, Lara nodded, and then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. December is a teacher's apocalypse and I am not quite sure if i will make it out alive this year. So I thought I might as well post this, despite not being 100% happy with it.  
That being said, this chapter took a quite different turn in the end from when I started to write it. I wasn't exactly going for that tentative truce situation between Cullen and Lara, but a tumblr post on Cullen's suppossed lack of regret and true growth made me mad. He's not perfect, but I find that playing as a mage actually shows of one of the finest character arcs through all of the three games we have so far. So, yeah.  
I am spite writing again, is what i'm saying.  
But I am also fueld by all your lovely comments. Truely, I couldn't be more thankful. I promise i'll squeeze in at least one more fun chapter and encounter with Bull before we come to the Fall-of-Haven-Chapters which might give y'all stuff to be unhappy about<3<3<3


	13. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being open and vulnerable in more ways than one, and landing a blow, too.
> 
> (This will be the last update before Christmas (maybe even the last one for this year), so have something just a bit longer. Or, like, twice as long as usual.)

_We'll lay here for years or for hours, Thrown here or found, to freeze or to thaw_

* * *

**#13**

Come dawn the next morning, Lara found herself kneeling in the Snow behind her hut, eyes closed. Around noon they would leave for the Breach. This could possibly be her last day. No one could know how the thing in the sky would react to her mark and if her support of the Mages had been the right choice. But if it killed her, at least it had been her own free choice.

And as she had always done before large battles with the Valo-Kas, Lara wondered if she could leave this world without regrets. She had so often faced death that the thought was almost instinctual.

But yes. She could. She had done good here. She had upheld her honor in all she did and she had spilled no more blood than necessary. She had not made enemies out of foolish reasons. Those placed in her care she would leave cared for. She carried final letters to her brother and her sister with her, always. She now also carried a letter for Shokrakar. If she were to fall in battle, they would be found on her body. Maybe someone would be kind enough to send them. Varric would. Dorian, too, maybe. If they survived.

But if she failed in this, they would not for much longer. And if she failed in this, those placed in her care would also likely be killed. This was not the same as doing a battle with her brothers and sisters in arms at her side. It was not mercenary work. Her own death she could face easily. But a future like the one she had seen? She could not let that come to pass.

How could she ever be at peace with death again if her nightmares were now drenched in the pulsating, corroding glow of red lyrium?

“Adaar, are you awake?” The voice was muffled, but it carried through the window to her hut she had left open. Dorian must be at the door. Lara opened her eyes and got up from the ground again. She grabbed her staff and made her way around the corner.

Dorian was startled by her sudden appearance, but then he also seemed startled by her … well, appearance. Almost demonstratively he looked her over, and with a raised brow, Lara did the same.

Ah. Yes. Hair open and barefeet. And she was still in the soft silk she wore to sleep here. She had forgotten that she had come here straight from her nightmares.

“Can’t sleep either, hm?”

She answered in a non-committal grunt. There wasn’t much to say. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, it was likely they were both still haunted by the same nightmare. When Lara opened the door to her hut, he followed her in. He didn’t wait for or seemingly didn’t need an invitation to flop down on her bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you tried to freeze the nightmares all away? Or what was the purpose of you being outside in that get-up? Not that I don’t appreciate a little piece of silk in the right place. But it seems a vastly foolish, if you ask me.”

Lara started pulling her hair up in her typical tight knot at the back of her head. “Meditation.”

“Ah? I have dabbled in that myself. Don’t seem to have the patience for it. Did it work?”

She considered it. “No.”

“Pity. Usually I’d recommend alcohol as the next course of action, or maybe a captivating novel. But this is not the day for the former and I think I have already read everything that could close to number two this pitiful place has to offer. None of it worth recommendation. If we survive this, we should consider adding a library.”

Done with her hair, Lara pulled out her black pants and undershirt. Then she started wrapping her feet and fists. For a while it was quiet as Dorian watched her. “You have an interesting staff, by the way. These carvings make the wood look a lot more elevated. I like the bells, especially. Is that common here in the south?”

Lara shook her head. “It is from Rivain. A seer made it for me. They are said to draw protective spirits close in battle.”

“Ah, I heard of their craftsmanship. I also hear the Church really, _really_ doesn’t like them. It looks nice. Are those trinkets on your horns from there too?”

Lara had strapped on her leather harness and was just about to put on her pauldron. She paused, instinctively reaching from the metal rings wrapped around the right, and the golden chain dangling from the other. “No. I made these.” Not entirely true. But already more than she cared to say.

“Really? Do they also have some magical purpose?”

“No.”

“No? None at all?”

“…No. They are just… there.”

“Ah, well, that _is_ a purpose, I suppose. My mother filled the same one. And much like on her, I think some feathers would look nice, you know.”

Dorian yawned, he briefly closed his eyes. Lara busied herself putting on her shoes. She had not reached the coat yet when Dorian sat up suddenly. He clapped his hands. “Oh, I have just the idea.” He surprised Lara by practically leaping from her bed. “We shall spar.”

Lara hesitated, looked him over. He wasn’t exactly frail for a human man. He clearly did train physically, to some extent. But he was by no means as trained as some of the warriors here. Not to speak of, well, herself. “That seems… unfair.”

It was Dorian’s to blink at her, then he clicked his tongue. “Not physically! I am not a barbarian. I meant with magic. My staff against yours. And I do mean the one in my hut.” He winked.

Lara paused, considered it. She had not had a spar with magic in a while. She had turned down a similar invitation by Solas, once. She still did not care for the way he catalogued her movements, especially in battle. And she feared she would be rather inclined to do actual damage to Madam de Fer had that one invited her. Aside from those two, though, there had hardly been anyone who could have handled it.

Not to mention the fact that for a friendly spar you needed to be friendly with people first. It did not seem proper to walk up to people she had never talked to before and ask them to fight her. Also not to mention the fact that a spar implied being comfortable with showing skills and tactics to people who might use that knowledge against you.

And there was also one more thing to consider: as Dorian had aptly put it some days earlier, Lara was aware that her casting style was destructive. Deal as much lasting, crippling damage to as many people as in the shortest span of time possible. And though she had decent control of her magic, there was only so much one could control when it came to ice or thunder.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly the safest idea to instigate this now. Maybe she should conserve her energy. But then again – when would be a better chance than on the day she might die?

Lara grabbed her staff. Gave it a twirl. It seemed all the answer Dorian had been waiting for. With a grin, he practically danced towards the door. “This shall be entertaining. Let’s meet on the frozen Lake, shall we?”

He did not stick around to wait for acknowledgement. With more energy than she had seen on him in the last few days, he marched out of her hut.

Just as well. Lara finished gearing herself up and headed to the frozen planes outside of the gates. It was early enough that no one was around yet. She saw but a few people heating up the smithy, but otherwise it was quiet.

As she strode across the yard, towards the ice, she remembered that Cullen had decided not to do a training this morning, so that those troops who would accompany them to the bridge could prepare themselves. Probably a wise choice, if one considered the task ahead of them.

And a blessing right now. She would not have cared to put on a show for others.

Lara carefully stepped of the small dock unto the frozen over water. Nothing moved beneath it, it was solid. She tested it, with the blade of her staff, but even as she rammed it harder on the ground, there was hardly a cracking sound. Physically this would do, as long as neither of them used lightning on this. Or a major fire spell.

She walked towards the center of the lake, testing her footing. Running or too much physical movement would be unwise, but that was probably why Dorian had chosen it. He was quite observant. Her usual style of fighting of throwing herself forward would be out of question on this. But she would still have the elemental advantage of her ice magic.

Slowly she tried a couple of sliding movements, moving her staff a bit slower than usually. She went through some movements for a few minutes, until Dorian appeared. It was clear to her that he was more sure of his steps than she was. He either had done this before or he was just that much more lightfooted than she was.

When he reached her, he dipped into a quick and elegant bow, as one might offer before a dance. He coked his head and grinned at her, too. He spoke quickly, excitement in his words. “I think we can agree, for both of our sakes: No fire, no lightning, and maybe no rocks, for good measure. The winner is whoever breaks the other’s barrier first. Shall we? On three?”

The moment Lara gave a nod, Dorian twirled around, and practically swaggered off in the direction opposite of her, towards the frozen over waterfall. Lara caught on quickly, and turned around herself, walking towards the other shore.

Then she heard a knocking sound, and slammed the end of her staff on the ice in answer, echoing back a knock herself. The next knock they did at the same time and then Lara whirled around, raising a barrier just in time to deflect a first blast thrown at her. Dorian had decided on offense before defense, it seemed.

It was a very quick blow by blow, both giving as good as they got. But it seemed Dorian was bored of that quickly. He began moving towards her with each spell, suddenly throwing a sigil up on the floor. Lara had to move herself if she didn’t want to be trapped, so she moved further backwards.

For almost a solid minute, Dorian seemed to be herding her towards the edge of the lake. Was that his plan, to trip her up by cornering her? The next time he raised a sigil, Lara twirled around as she slid back and cut a piece of ice off the wall behind her, using her ice magic to enhance it into a shard, throwing it across the lake. Dorian reacted quickly, throwing himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the shard.

She used the distraction to push herself off with the staff, and slid across the ice towards him. He saw her coming and was on his feet within moments again, but it was just a bit too late. He was within reach of her spell, and she threw her hand down on the layer of ice, using the contact to call forth a wall of ice behind him.

Dorian glanced over his shoulder, and laughed. “My dear, don’t you think you’re just making this harder for yourself?” And again, he threw a sigil forth. But as she moved to dodge it, she narrowly missed Dorian’s own outstretched hand. Contact magic? Interesting. Lara couldn’t help the prickling in her neck. She wondered what the other mage had planned next.

She raised anther wall, this time between them, trying to gain a bit of distance. Before she could, however, Dorian used a fortified blast to crush the wall. And he followed on the heel of the blast with another sigil. Half of the space behind her was riddled with them now. There was no way back, so she slid to the side, raising another wall, as her fingers slid across the ice.

As expected, he blast through that one, too, and the next one as well. The lake was littered with as many pieces of the broken walls as it was with his sigils now. If he kept it up, he would tire himself, she hoped. But also hopefully… not too soon. She was enjoying this.

And Dorian seemed just as excited. He clearly was sure that smashing her wall’s was a piece of cake. The third one, however, he sidestepped and instead of a blast, he threw himself towards her.

Lara watched with fascination and confusion as he used his whole weight and slid towards her on his knees. She easily moved aside, expecting him to try and swipe her ankles with his staff, but what she didn’t expect was for him to suddenly stretch out a hand and propel himself upward to kick at her.

The moment his foot connected with her upper left arm, a tremor went through her that seemed to shake her very core. The air seemed to be pressed from her lungs, blood pounding her ears. Her heart beating a rapid pace. What had just happened? Was this what dying felt like?

_Had all of this sparing been an elaborate plan to get her to be careless? _

_She instinctively sank to the ground, grabbing the place he had just kicked at. There was no wound, the barrier would have taken any real blow. _

_Dorian had slid just a bit further away and was on his feet again, grinning at her triumphantly. Her heartbeat continued to climb._

_Trap. This had been a trap. She was going to lose. She was going to die here. He was here to kill her. To return her to **them**. She had to run, she had to run, she had to…_

_She whirled around a bit too quickly, and felt herself falling to the ground. She barely managed to raise her arms to shield her face. As she connected with the ice, the panic tuned to blinde rage as she heard Dorian laughing behind her. She _was _not going to die without taking him down, too._

_Lara was on her knees within seconds, her staff above her head, and then slammed it on the ground. All bets were off. This was a ‘friendly spar’ no longer. The moment the blade of her staff connected with the ice, all the broken down blocks of ice from the walls she had summoned seemed to be blasted off the ground. And within the blink of an eye, she raised her palm towards Dorian, letting out a guttural cry of hatred as she commanded all the shards around them towards him. She also threw herself towards him, ready to tear his throat out with her bare hands, if necessary._

_Dorian’s eyes widened and he cursed and-_

Lara felt something slip off her, she could finally breath again. And realization hit her the same moment as Dorian hit the ground in an effort to avoid her ice. What had she done?

She let go off all care and her staff, recklessly putting as much power as she could in her legs, as she raised her arms forward, hoping to reach him before her spell would. She just might, if she… she threw herself on Dorian, and pulled him close, engulfing him in the frame of her torso, rolling and sliding across the ice. She felt the ice scraping off layers of the skin of her arms and cheek, but her horns took the worst of the blow to her head. She narrowly avoided the majority of ice blocks, only a few hitting her barrier and breaking it down easily.

When they came to a halt, Lara looked down to check on Dorian. He seemed a bit shocked, but hardly worse for wear. He looked up at her, with an open mouthed stare. And let out a string of words she didn’t understand, but would guess to be curse words, just based on his tone.

With a shaky exhale, Lara let go off Dorian and rolled off him and on her back next to him. She stared at the sky, for a moment, as gravity hit and her full senses seemed returned to her. “What was that spell you put me under?”

“Terror. A light terror. Normally just makes people cower or wet themselves. Maybe, if they are really afraid, the run. I just wanted to break your cool a little. Literally.” She could hear him breathing heavily, and held her own breath. Then, suddenly, a wheezing sound. Lara turned her head, and brushed her hair out of her face, looked at Dorian. Her hair had escaped the tight bun upon impact, evidently.

He was staring up at the sky himself, but he was … smiling. “That backfired spectacularly. I think I ended up more terrified than you. You have issues, Adaar.” But the smile slipped, a little. It was as if he realized something the moment he said that. She couldn’t really interpret the expression.

There was only the sound of their heavy breathing as they stared at each other. And then there was the sound of several voices calling something out to them. Just a bit too far away to understand what exactly it was they were saying.

Lara closed her eyes, cursing her fate in Qunlat. Dorian sat up and looked over his shoulder towards the shore. He seemed amused, and waved over to them. Lara sat up as well, but couldn’t bring herself to turn around. She wondered what sight she could expect: people who had no idea how dangerously close she had come to murdering Dorian. People who though the ox woman had put on a good show. Or those who saw her as the brutal beast she was, and would look upon her with fear. If she was lucky, it would be an even mix.

She got up, brushing the ice off her coat. Then she walked over to where she had dropped her staff. Then she inhaled, once more, trying to regain her composure. She heard him approach before he reached her, and turned around to look at Dorian, just as he had reached out a hand towards her.

He dropped the hand, and Lara couldn’t fathom that he was still smiling at her, after this. “I think we can call this one a draw, for both of our ego’s sakes. And let’s get your scratches healed before the seeker will have my head for damaging her precious herald.”

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. Finally, reluctantly, Lara looked over to the coast. Indeed, there was the Seeker, with her arms crossed and an expression of displeasure. But there was more. Varric was next to her, leaning on his crossbow, with a wide grin. And then there was a smaller group sat on stones and boxes, that Lara only recognized as probably a part of the Charger’s when she spotted Krem and the Iron Bull amidst them.

Krem waved over, and gave her a thumb’s up, with a grin. A stark contrast to the lack of expression on the Bull’s face, before he, too, grinned.

Lara frowned, and then shifted her posture just a bit, hanging her head lower, torso turned, so that her hair would hide her face. She returned her gaze to Dorian. “Are you unhurt?”

“Oh, yes, don’t worry yourself. It wouldn’t be a good spar if not for a bit of bruising. I’ll have us both fixed up in seconds. And then we can meet our adoring audience for autographs.” He didn’t wait for permission, as he put one hand on her arm first, as he had done before, and his magic almost effortlessly healed the torn of skin beneath the torn coat. And then reached with the other for her face.

Lara instinctively moved backwards with her head, which made Dorian pause. He raised an eyebrow at her. But aside from curiosity, there was … worry. He lowered his hand, and seemed ready to ask her something. Lara, in her turn, moved. She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder, softly. And shook her head. “Thank you,” she said, but the notion was clear enough.

Dorian, to her relief, seemed to accept it. He shrugged. “Fine, fine. Wear that badge of honor, then. But you and I need to have words later about this.”

Then, he linked his arm through hers, practically pushing and pulling her with him towards the shore. Lara allowed him to, until they were almost at the shore. Then she carefully detached herself, and moved to avoid the crowd. Dorian shot her a look, before suddenly opening his arms wide and dropping into a bow before the crowd. He moved towards the Chargers with a dazzling smile, who readily played along and applauded him.

Lara intended to use the distraction to slip past them, but Cassandra and Varric wouldn’t let her.

“That was impressive,” Varric said almost cheerfully as he stepped up to her.

Lara crossed her arms over her chest. She could outwalk him easily. The Seeker behind him was another matter. Both of them locked eyes for a moment, but neither seemed willing to speak up first.

Varric seemed to notice it, too. There was something calculating, when he turned sideways to look at the seeker for a moment, before he returned his grin to her. “You should have seen our Seeker over here. She was ready to just jump into the fray and join you guys.”

“I was not,” Cassandra hissed almost instinctively. Then she caught herself. Her expression darkened. “I was momentarily not sure of your intentions. For a spar, both of you seemed to go too far. It was reckless.”

Lara nodded. “Yes.”

That threw Cassandra off, and also seemed to surprise Varric. “I… am glad you agree.” Did the Seeker truly seemed pacified by that? Lara would question it later and chose to try and use that, and moved towards the gate. But the Seeker stepped in her way, again.

“However, I am here for another matter. We will be leaving for the breath soon. The mages the Former Grand Enchanter selected for the task are being prepared as we speak. I am here to ask you who you wish to come along for this matter.”

Varric laughed. “And I am here to make sure that I am along for the ride. I am not gonna miss that. Someone has to record this victory for posterity. And if we don’t win, we’re fucked anyway.”

Lara nodded. “Very well.” Then she looked to Cassandra. “I assume you will want to come?”

Cassandra nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

She considered it, honestly, but found that she would appreciate the presence of the Seeker. If magic would turn out not the way to go, there was a slim chance that the antithesis of magic might be helpful. “I don’t.”

Lara heard someone clear their throat behind her. “How about me, Boss?”

She froze. And then looked over her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed that Bull had left Dorian’s audience and strolled over to them. It was the first time they spoke ever since her second stormy exit. Ever since she had thrown her identity in his face. “Why.” Her tone was flat, the question barely coming out a question at all.

His expression was calm, relaxed, a hint of a smile there. But it was off. She didn’t need Ben-Hassrath training for that. Which said enough, really. If he couldn’t bring himself to even act convincingly, he knew exactly where both of them stood. She was everything he hated, and he was everything she hated. Did he really expect her to pick him for this? Had she not made herself clear? What was his angle here? And why was she even bothering to ask him?

“Come on. I am the obvious tactical choice here. You’re gonna need a bodyguard if you’re gonna take that thing on, and I can take hits better than anyone else. Besides, this is what me and the boys came here for, right?“

He was not wrong. But he was also not an option. Lara turned her head, breaking eye contact. Pretending to observe the group behind Bull.

This was not for the sake of the Inquisition. She had done the extend of what she could for them now. She was going to give her everything, she had recruited what she thought was their best bet. This was the one personal decision she would have to make in this. This was about who she would trust to have her back. If she was going to die today, it would not be in the presence of a Qunari. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by fear. If anything, this spar had shown how easily she could lose her head.

“I was going to suggest that we might take along the Grey Warden you recruited recently, Herald,” Cassandra said, apparently noticing Lara’s lack of response. “From the rumors I heard, he might have experience with unusual magic. And they are trained for this kind of situation, even if it is not darkspawn we are facing.”

Not a bad suggestion. But just once in this endeavor, she would be selfish. Lara turned fully towards Bull, and looked him square in the eye, chin raised slightly in defiance. She made one step towards him, and another. And just when she was within an armlength’s distance she sidestepped him, went back to where the Charger’s stood gathered around Dorian.

Dorian looked up as she approached, and from how his gaze flicked past her, she could guess that the other three had turned to follow her. He raised both of his eyebrows at her.

And Lara tilted her head sideways, a bit.

“Dorian,” she said, calmly. “Come. We have to prepare.”

For a brief moment, a part of her wondered if he would refuse her. After all, she had just nearly killed him. He would be within his rights. It would be normal – healthy. She had growled, snarled and screamed at him like a beast.

But then, Dorian smiled, and walked over to her. And as she turned he used the moment and once more, he linked his arm through hers. “Oh, for the main event, you mean?” He pointed at the sky. Lara nodded, and Dorian’s smile became a gleeful grin. From the way he looked at Cassandra and Bull, Lara had no doubt that he had figured out what was going on. “Certainly. This was just the warm-up, after all. Let’s show them what horrible things we mages can do.”

She found him winking at the Iron Bull, who was looking at both of them with an unreadable expression. “Are you sure, Boss? This could be the difference between surving and dying here, you know.”

The Seeker sighed, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead.

And Lara, briefly, smiled joylessly. “Then there is no other _person_ here I would rather die with.”

She noticed Dorian staring up at her from the corner of her eyes. She had said that rather bluntly, hadn’t she? Dorian seemed actually thrown off by it more than by anything else she had said to him so far. And then he… swatted at her. “Well, as flattering as that is, let’s avoid that, shall we? I am too pretty to die here.” Lara nodded. And Dorian started dragging her towards the gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have i mentioned so far, by the way, that all of these random one-liners at the beginning of the chapter are Hozier lyric quotes?
> 
> This chapter was two different ones and I ended up mashing them together for several reasons. The main one being that Lara is more open and vulnerable to a degree here, and I wanted to have this theme wrapped up in one Chapter. Even if it doesn't necessarily show as much in the second half, because Lara herself isn't super aware. But for the record, from her giving Dorian hints about her past, to agreeing to spar, to her loss of control due to Dorian's spell, her refusal to be healed, and even including her somewhat confrontational challenge to Bull... it's all sorta linked to something that she is very much not aware of. By keeping these chapters as one i was hoping to make it a bit more obvious, despite the limitations of her perspective.
> 
> If you need cheering up after this and a laugh before christmas, try to imagine Bull watching that battle, and know that he's into it, despite himself. ;) And with that, I raise my eggnog to you guys. Have a lovely holiday, whatever you celebrate. Cheers!


	14. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm, so to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following bit will stretch over a couple of chapters. I’ll try to only take things from the cut scenes when I alter them, and there will be alterations. In all honesty, though, they are mostly for flavor. If you don’t want any of that, wait for / skip ahead to chapter 19 or 20. It should be over by then.

_But my peace has always depended / On all the ashes in my wake_

* * *

Upon their return they were all covered in ash. She didn’t notice at first, but it flocked off of them, to the snow. It felt prophetic, in a way, ashes and snow mixing like this before her. She paused before the Gates of Haven and felt like a passenger on a ship, watching what happened on the other shore.

People had gathered outside, now cheering at their return. It was strange to see mages being cheered at, and Lara could tell that she was not the only one to notice it. But the former Grand Enchanter held her head higher, prouder now. For her, this was a victory.

For most of them, it was. The wound in the sky had stopped festering, though it may not be closed entirely. It meant hope for the common people that things could still turn for the better, despite the events of the past months – years even. Already some were bringing kegs of ale outside.

She could see Cassandra striding towards the Commander, and even the usually rather serious Seeker had a smile on her face. For her, this moment proved that she had made the right call when she had encouraged all of them to spite the Chantry.

What was this for her, though, she wondered? Lara turned her gaze downwards, to the greying snow and the ashes. She raised one hand, shaking the ash off her hair, but her eyes were drawn to the other palm. Still aglow. She suddenly felt the urgent need to clean herself.

She looked up, ready to move past the crowds and for her hut when her gaze met The Iron Bull's. He was standing in his usual spot, Krem and Sera standing with him. She paused. It had been an accident to meet his gaze. She had resolved to avoid him entirely, from now on. No more challenging him, no more making clear what was lying between them. If she was to overcome the nightmares, she had to overcome his presence altogether.

His expression was serious. None of the casual behavior he had displayed so insistently before. He was gauging her up, and then, slowly, he nodded. He called out. “Good job, Boss.”

Boss. Of a Ben-Hassrath. How absurd this world had become.

Lara pretended not to have heard, and pushed past the crowds for the gate. The Commander turned towards her, calling something out. She heard the word 'war room'. She chose to pretend not to have heard that either.

She pushed past several more people who seemed to want to reach out, and quickened her steps with each person. But when her hut came into view, she pushed passed it, returned to the place where she had meditated earlier this morning beneath the trees. How could it still be the same day?

As soon as she reached it, she sank down to the floor, and begun scrubbing her face and horns with snow. The chill ran down her spine, but it was necessary. She had felt so very, very tired suddenly. Exhaustion beyond just the physical strain put on her today.

For a few moments she just remained like this. The moments turned into something longer. A part of her didn’t want to have to bear it – but she had to. Closing her eyes to a problem had never been her way. So she sank back on her heels, and looked up at the sky.

The scar in the sky made it seem strangely empty now, matching the hollow feeling in her chest. The sky may be empty, but her palm was still marked. Whoever had done this was still out there. Could this really be enough? Would this mark the end of the Inquisition?

It did not feel like an end. Like a victory. The mark was burning still, as if in mockery of her own hopes of being free to return to her own life. Would she still be bound to this cause? Had she prevented that future from happening? Would she ever know for certain that she had done enough?

A sigh escaped her as she rose again, slowly. The taste of ash was on her tongue, now, too. She emerged from behind the hut and noticed that it had begun to snow. That did not stop the people of Haven, though. Maryden was singing close by, there was already a festive in the making. The healer was already close to being drunk, dancing with Flissa. Even the Chargers had joined the festivities.

Lara strolled over to the stone ledge, and sank down on it, overlooking the small town. In all the weeks, she had felt strangely distant and close to these people at the same time. That much remained the same. She could not share in their joy, but she wished it to be otherwise. Most of these people had turned out to be better than she had expected, at first.

She looked over her shoulder when a heavy crunching sound could be heard. It was the Seeker, emerging from the Church. She noticed Lara, too, and came over. Slowly, maybe a bit unsure.

“We have been looking for you. The war council had to start without you.”

Lara merely nodded, said nothing more. Maybe she was no longer needed now, a part of her whispered. A foolish part that just wanted a chance to go home.

“Solas confirms…” The Seeker stops herself. Her expression was troubled, and it was clear she was fighting a battle within. Then, suddenly, she sank down, on one knee, bringing her face the same level as Lara’s. “Are you… alright?”

Lara was surprised at the worry on the human woman’s face. At the genuine emotion in her voice. She had always seemed a bit uncomfortable in their interactions. So Lara had chosen to spare her this, and avoided to trouble her too much with her presence. Why would the woman start a personal conversation now, of all times?

“Why do you ask?”

The Seeker cleared her throat, further confirming that she was, indeed, not very comfortable right now either. “You seem troubled. This should be a moment of elation. You don’t seem that way and I wonder…” She paused.

Lara wasn’t sure what to say. She just watched the human woman carefully.

Then, finally, the Seeker sighed. “I wonder if this…” and she made a vague gesture, between them. “… is my fault. I realize I have been hard on you, from the beginning, but especially these past days, Adaar. Is it too late to apologize.”

This was the second time in the span of few days that one of the Leaders of this group came to apologize to her. A part of her would usually suspect someone to be pulling the strings behind this, if she was being manipulated. But the sheer discomfort on the Seekers expression was too genuine. The woman had many abilities that Lara had to respect, her battle prowess not even the greatest of them, but she was not a good actor, or terribly skilled at keeping her emotions in check.

When Lara said nothing, it seemed to encourage the Seeker to carry on.

“Varric has pointed out to me that I may have still been treating you like a suspect for several weeks. I may have let my judgement be clouded by prejudice.” The tone of her voice made very clear what she thought of getting reprimanded by Varric.

Still, Lara could not fully comprehend this. Prejudice towards her was nothing new – not to her, but also not to anyone else. And it was not something she had expected for the Seeker to confront. It was hard to overcome something ingrained deeply into you. “Which one?”

“Pardon?”

“For Kossith or for mages?”

Cassandra blinked. “Oh.” She stumbled. “I have nothing against mages, but … admit I was wary of your decision to make the mages allies and wondered about your reasons. But neither, I am afraid. I have… my reservations about some of the mercenary bands of Thedas.”

Lara blinked. Cassandra pressed on. “In Nevarra, they are almost as power hungry and wide spread as the Mortalitasi. And in Kirkwall, they profit of the misery of the people. Sellswords often fight only for their own benefit. And I did not support the Divine’s choice of hiring mercenaries to protect the conclave. It is part of why I was so ready to believe you the culprit behind the explosion initially.”

Of all the things people had held against her over the years, being a mercenary was low on the list. Lara stared at the Seeker, wondering if there was something here she was not understanding. But characteristically for her, Cassandra seemed nothing but serious. And that didn’t really help.

So, after a while, Lara inclined her head. “I see.” Then, after the silence stretched uncomfortably, she returned her gate back towards Haven. “What did Solas confirm?”

Cassandra blinked. “Oh.” She sounded… disappointed? Then she cleared her throat. “The heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed.” Her voice shifted back, to her usual tone of order and duty. “We’ve reports on lingering rifts, and many questions remain. But this was a victory.” She put notable emphasis on the last word. Like a blood hound, she had noticed that Lara did not seem to think so and insistently had dug her teeth into the topic. It was non-surprising that she pressed onward. “Word of your heroism has spread.”

Finally, Lara looked up again, frowned. “It was not my doing. I was a small part in this.”

Cassandra frowned back. “I disagree. You made a decision when we didn’t want to, and you bear the mark in your hand.”

“You would have managed the former without me. And the later is on me in pure coincidence. ”

“Maybe so.” Cassandra seemed not convinced though. “But that does not elevate the burden it is.” Lara half expected to be told of the Maker and his plans for this world again, but instead Cassandra seemed to give in. “You are right in that this was a victory of alliance. One you forged. One of the few in recent history. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus.”

Lara couldn’t shake the feeling that this was what this conversation was really about. So she had not been the only one wondering about her future.

Before Lara could ask her, though, what the purpose was Cassandra had in mind, the bells of war started ringing. Both Seeker and Cassandra were on their feet within moments, sprinting towards the gate, before the rest of the stumbling masses could even properly realize what was happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belatedly, Happy New Year! I hope you are all well and healthy and fine. 
> 
> This update comes a bit later than expected, and I am sorry for that. January is very stressful and I am afraid February will be much the same. There are a lot of conferences at work, and unpleasant things, but I am also looking for a new place to stay and that is more time consuming than expected. Wish me luck, please, because I really want to be out of the place I am in right now.  
At any rate, consider this a minor warning that updates will be slow until after I have found a place and moved, so please bear with me and have patience.<3 Sorry and thank you.


	15. Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death and destruction are looming, and in it's wake a spirit rises and old wounds fester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor warning: I have added a new tag to this and the issue is "Suicidal thoughts". They aren't adressed yet, but there is a theme and this is (or could be) where at least part of this is going for a few chapters. If that is deeply uncomfortable to you, I am sorry for adding it this late. It wasn't planned, i am just running with it.  
I will state outright here that suicide itself will not happen. That is a promise.
> 
> Also minor apology: Chapter length here is quite a bit more than usual for this story.

_An awful noise_

_Filled the air_

_I heard a scream_

_In the woods somewhere_

* * *

_ **#15 ** _

_S__pirits know things,_ Ralshokra had taught them. Lara remembered sitting between Shokrakar and Anaan on the coast of Rivain as she told them that. _You may think that Saarebas can walk the Fade, but compared to what the Spirits see and know, they are ants in the desert_. _It’s why the Bas and the Qun both hate them so much. _

Ralshokra had spent many years with Rivaini Seers, one of her lovers who had traveled with them for a time, Anahi, had been one. But there had been another reason that the Valo-Kas had spent so many years in Rivain: the acceptance of Kossith there.

Lara now remembered the Anahi’s words that had made her leave there, reluctantly but with the sense of urgency: _They are here to find you, to cut you, to chain you and to kill you_. _You have to leave_.

These echoed in her mind, now, staring at the boy before her.

“The Templars come to kill you.”

She could feel it, the way she had felt it then, rolling off of him. This boy who had come from nowhere and had singlehandedly disposed of a group of grown men was someone with a stronger connection to the Fade. She saw no staff, though. Was the boy possessed by a spirit, like Anahi had been that night?

“Templars?” The Commander had his sword in hand, pushing past Lara towards the boy in rags. “Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

Lara could not make out his face, but the boy did seem very calm in the face of this heated reaction. “The Red Templars went to the Elder One.” Then he whipped around to her again, and the calm seemed to fade. “You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.” And then, he turned, lifting his arm, pointing towards the mountain. “There.”

Lara looked to where the boy was pointing. It was difficult to make out anything. It was still snowing. But she heard the boy’s quiet, unsettling words, as she stared up at the man. Was he a man, truly? He was taller than the human with him. Then her eyes wandered over the troops ahead, besides and behind him. They were a much greater concern. Whoever he was, he had brought a small army.

She had fought armies in the past. She had defended castles against armies, too. But Haven was no castle. There was no holding the small town against this force, despite the Commander’s efforts in training and preparing them for an attack. The groups were too inexperienced and still too unorganized. She looked towards the Commander, who already was looking at her. She knew what their best bet was. “We should retreat.”

“Retreat? Out of the question.” He frowned. “We have nowhere to go and we cannot evacuate everyone quickly enough.”

She did not agree, entirely. She had not just learned patterns of people, she had learned the surroundings of Haven very well in her first few weeks here. She remembered the way here, through the mountains, with Solas, Varric and Cassandra. There were several old mines close by that might be closed off, but they could be strong enough to half of the people here. The other half could make it down the hill towards the nearest village. They would just have to stall the attackers.

But the Commander would have good reason not to suggest this and it was not a time for debate. Shokrakar had always demanded that his people think forward, not insisting to hold a certain point down when it came to battle tactics. She crossed her arms over her chest. “The Chargers can hold the outer walls, for a time. They have a Shock-Troop formation. If these truly are Templars, our mages should fall back and focus on supporting the walls – setting up traps, preventing them from coming close enough for direct attack of the fortifications. They will disable it, but it will take time, and leave them open for distance attacks by archers.”

Cullen thought about the idea, for a moment, and then nodded. He turned around, called out. “Mages! On the fortifications! That man is Samson, he will not make it easy! So let’s not make it easy for him either. Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!”

She had to give him that. He gave good speeches. Lara turned, ready to lead the charge and try to stall the first wave of enemies. Varric was on her heels, as was Cassandra. She was surprised to find that the boy was following her as well – as was the Iron Bull. She had not noticed him joining them. When had he chosen to join them? Her steps faltered.

They made eye contact, but it was clear he had no intention of leaving. Lara couldn’t help it, she scowled at him.

He remained unfathomed – he scowled right back at her.

What the _fuck_ did he think he was doing? She had made herself clear _twice_ now, hadn’t she? He might work for the Inquisition, but there was no working together between the two of them. She couldn’t believe his nerve to try and force it on her now.

Anger welled up in her, and she let it out in an angry cry when she whirled around saw the first of their enemies come towards her.

She charged at him, staff scratching the surface of the ice. She could feel a hot wave wash over her as the Templar tried to dispel her magic, but he had miscalculated her intentions. She never slowed her run and raised her staff quickly over her head. When she was almost in front of him she moved and sidestepped him and in this second she tore it down in one swift motion, hitting the exposed flesh between armor and back of the neck in one quick strike, decapitating the man.

Before his head even hit the ground she used the momentum to throw herself head first at the next man, ramming him unto the ground with her whole weight. And only now did she reach out for her magic, pushing ice unto him. Then she pushed herself off the ground with the staff, using the support to kick her heels hard on the ground, and sending a tremor towards the next enemy, yet out of reach. It unbalanced him enough for her to cut the frozen enemy to pieces, and then fling a part of him – his arm - at the man like a spear. He was impaled on his comrades frozen arm.

Then the boy appeared at her right at the same moment an enemy did who had been in her blind spot. The boy tore through him with twin daggers, and the hot blood drenched her side. She looked at the boy, observing as he practically disappeared and flickered into existence behind the enemy impaled one.

She noticed Cassandra and Bull fighting back to back against two more of those grotesque Templars and reached up into the air. Then she formed a fist, pulling her arm down abruptly, at the same time as lighting struck one of the quick, red things. He exploded right in front of The Iron Bull, and Lara would be lying if there was not some satisfaction in him getting hit by the debris.

There was no time to gloat, though. They had to move it now, when they had a moment between the waves. So Lara let out another cry. “Follow!” The others did, towards the trebuchet.

And for a small while it seemed as if they had a chance. As if Cullen had been right. Lara felt elated, felt excited as she had not felt in a long while. This changed when the first ball of fire hit them. When the Dragon crossed through the air above them, Lara felt her stomach sink.

Then she heard Cullen call out. Retreat, finally. But too late.

When the gates to the wall fell shut behind her, a part of Lara knew that this was a battle already lost. She paused, looking over her shoulder, briefly and heard Cassandra call something similar, but was too distracted by the voice she heard nearby. It may be a lost battle, but she would not let anyone die alone in this, if she could prevent it.

Lara ignored the Bull’s growling that they should get to the Chantry. If he insisted on trailing her it was his own damn choice. She made sure that everyone was safe – there was nothing she was needed for anymore anyway. The Breach was closed. They would find a way to handle the smaller rifts. If she died in this, she would die without regrets.

Only after the elf and as many others as she could find were in the Church did Lara head towards the doors of the Church herself. With one look over her shoulder, towards the Dragon. She had never fought a Dragon. She had always wanted to, though. But Rivain had so few of them left. And this did not look like an ordinary Dragon.

She felt herself slow down, before the thought was fully formed. But before she could turn around, she felt someone grab her hand. It was the boy. He was staring up at her, and it was the first time she really saw his face. “No,” he said, voice full of desperation.

It was the second of hesitation that was too much. The next second she felt someone grab her shoulder and forcefully push her forward. Lara instinctively turned in her stumble, hissing at Bull. Yet again, Bull seemed unfathomed, staring her down.

She was ready to simply push past him, spurned on further by his opposition when she saw the Chantry Man collapse. Before she could, however, the boy caught him. When had he…? He walked the Chancellor over to a chair.

“He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

“What a charming boy.” Indeed. But honest. The man was dangerously pale. She had seen many men in his condition. Few lived. If he were here, Shokrakar would take one look at the man and suggest putting him out of his misery.

Before Lara could say anything, though, the Commander came jogging towards them. “Adaar! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

Lara looked back towards the now closed door. Archdemon, huh? She had heard tales of them. She heard that only Grey Wardens were supposed to be able to kill them. But they had just recruited one of those, hadn’t they? Lara looked around, but couldn’t see the man.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” the Commander practically growled. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

Everyone looked at the possessed boy, Lara included. _Spirits know things_. So theirs was an enemy with a cause, then. But what cause?

Before she could voice the question, the boy answered it. “I don’t know why. He’s too loud. It hurts to hear. He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway.” And then, more quiet, as if in an afterthought he added, “I don’t like him.”

Briefly, very briefly, Lara wondered what kind of spirit had possessed the boy. What had drawn them here? Anahi had favored Spirits of Learning, but there had been the occasional Spirit of Courage, too. And once, on a memorable occasion, even a Spirit of Command. But none of them had made Anahi behave quite as erratic as the boy was behaving.

The Commander seemed even more confused by the boy, though. “You don’t like…?” Before he even finished the sentence, he must have come to the same conclusion Lara had: not the right moment to figure him out. If this boy had come here to die with them, he was welcome to it. And the Commander obviously had come to the same conclusion as she had on that matter as well, when he spoke in her direction next. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

Lara added what he wasn’t saying. “And bury Haven in the process.”

The Commander didn’t try to sweeten this in any way. “We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

She could point out that Mages were included in that group of ‘many’, often. But she had heard that Templar’s often were in that, too. As a Mercenary, death had been her companion for so many years that it had lost its edge. And she felt calmed hoping that closing the Breach might just have prevented the red nightmares from becoming reality.

Off to the side, she noticed the Iron Bull listening closely. His expression was unreadable, and she found she begrudged him that. She wondered if he was fine with this being his grave. For once, she did not fear looking at him, meeting his eye. Whatever he would see, there would be no report written about it. So what was the Ben-Hassrath thinking here and now? Considering that he only wanted to be a tool for the Qun, this should be the height of wishfulfilment for him. Dying fulfillling his purpose. But usually, they wanted a battlefield to be their grave, too. Being buried beneath and avalanche did not fit there.

“Chancellor Roderick can help,” the possessed boy interrupted her thoughts. He was still kneeling next to the Chantry man, not looking at them, expression hidden by his hat. “He wants to say it before he dies.”

_Spirits know things,_ she reminded herself. It seemed this one could still read the mind of people, even when possessing someone else.

“There is a path,” the Chancellor spoke, slowly. The effort of each word audible in his voice. But there was something else there, too. “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape.” And with energy that Lara wouldn’t have expected of him, he stood up.

He didn’t seem to notice the boy stepping in to help him. “She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could … tell you.” That was what was giving him energy. His faith. Was the boy possessed by a spirit of faith? She had never encountered one, but it didn’t seem to fit. A Spirit of hope, maybe? She pushed those unhelpful thoughts aside.

Still, as much as she had explored Haven, she had no memory of having seen the path the man was speaking about. “Where is it?”

The chantry man, however, was overcome. He either didn’t fully hear her question, or he simply pushed on in spite of it. He told her of how he had found the path, instead. A chance encounter that he was seeing as fate now and a feverish agitation was on his face. He stepped closer – much closer than he had ventured to come to the ‘horned giant’ so far. “Now, with so many in the conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… I don’t know, Herald. If this simply memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. _You _could be more.”

Lara wanted to remind the man of all the things he had said to her so far. Wanted to point out that considering his state, he had best pass on the information, now. But she had not been taught to be cruel. There was no honor in inflicting pain on the dying.

But that was not the point. Here was a tactical choice that wasn’t really a choice at all. She was no better than a pawn in this anymore. She crossed her arms over her chest, looked towards the door. It had been her intention all along, after all. “If that thing is here to end my life, he shall have to fight me for it.”

“And how exactly are you going to escape the falling mountain, Boss?” Bull butted in with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He knew the answer to that question already.

Lara shot him a glare. “What’s it to you, _the_ Iron Bull?” Why did she keep doing this? She didn’t truly even want to hear what he would say.

He stared right back, arms crossed. “My job is to keep you alive. That’s what I was hired for. Can’t really do that if you want to kill yourself this badly. So we really should find a better plan, hm, Boss?”

Lara turned to face him fully, mimicking his posture, arms crossed. “No. Let us not fool each other, here. You were hired for being a tool of the Qun.” She raised her chin slightly, when his eyebrow rose. “Your only_ job_ is to do whatever they told you to do. And I am _not_ here to make sure you fulfill your purpose for the Qun.”

For once, fucking finally, it seemed she hit a mark. He was practically growling his reply. “What do you know of that purpose, Tal-Vashoth.”

She was so close to spitting in his face. So close. But she reigned herself back in. “No more than you do, Ben-Hassrath. You are assigned your purpose, you are told of your job. I know exactly what my job here is, too. So your task is no _fucking_ concern of mine. I will do what I have to save these people. If it means toppling a mountain at the cost of my life, so be it. If it bothers you, _fucking_ leave.”

For just a second, they stared each other down.

“Well, shit,” Varric spoke up out of nowhere. He had returned from the other side of the building, where he had helped make sure that Flissa was alright now. But he had clearly been able to read from the lack of reply himself. “Snowflake, that is a dumb plan.”

“Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” Cullen spoke obviously more to convince himself than to convince her. She had almost forgotten that he was still here – he had become awefully quiet at her exchange with Bull.

Lara didn’t bother replying. She rolled her shoulders back, and faced the door. Cullen turned around and barked orders at the soldiers, as she slowly made her way back towards the door.

“Herald… if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” Was this supposed to give her comfort? Lara merely inclined her head in acknowledgement of his words, and watched as the boy helped the Chancellor over to a soldier to carry him.

“Wait, what do you think you’re doing?” It was Dorian who came over to them now. He had been healing one of the people she had saved, but must have noted the commotion. “What is the plan?”

“Currently, the plan seems to be for Snowflake to martyr herself, true to her title.”

Dorian cursed in Tevene. “No! How barbaric are you people? You’re sending her out there to die, you do realize that, yes?”

Lara paused, looked over her shoulder towards Dorian. “No one is sending me anywhere. This is my choice. And mine alone.” Then she turned around, walked back towards him. She reached underneath the breastplate she wore and pulled out the three letters she had been carrying, held them out to Dorian. He stared at them took them. Simply looked at the name she had written on them, in Trade, as to be less suspicious.

“It has been an honor to know you, Dorian.”

Dorian looked at the letters, then at her. He looked at Varric, who was avoiding their gaze, and even at Bull, who was still watching. Then, he raised his chin. “Of course it has been. And I am very bad with crying family members, Adaar, so you bet your ass I will come with you. You can find someone else to play your messenger.” He held out the letters to her.

Lara shook her head. “I am not taking anyone with me. It would defeat the purpose of this mission.”

“Really? Because your plan is to fire the trebuchets to cause another avalanche, right, Boss?” What was it with the sarcasm now? The Iron Bull chose once more to involve himself in the conversation. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but our enemy won’t exactly let you stroll up to the thing. So you will need backup to increase everyone’s chances.”

Lara hated to admit that he had a point there.

“Good, that’s settled then,” Dorian put the letters in a pocket of his pants when Lara still didn’t reach out to take them back. “We’ll have to die together then.”

“And you won’t be able to get rid of me this time, Boss.”

“Yeah, snowflake. Guess I am along for another suicide mission again.”

Lara sighed. She was surrounded by idiots. But it would be a waste of time to fight them on this. Her only option was to try and make sure to keep as many of them alive for as long as possible. And then go and see if she could confront that Elder One on her own somehow.

Cullen chose this moment to return as well, effectively robbing her of any chance for second thoughts. “Soldiers are loading the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line. If we are to have a chance – if _you_ are to have a chance – let that thing hear you.”

He wouldn’t have to tell her twice. Giving her staff a twirl, Lara turned around once more, heading for the door again. She actually kicked the door open and let out another roar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for that lengthy chapter. The upcoming thing doesn't let itself be tied down.  
Also, yes, we are getting more confrontational in every sense of the word. That means y'all will get to experience my lack of talent when it comes to descriptions of fighting sequences some more. Sorry for that, too.
> 
> Oh, also, I am making things up about Rivain. That much is clear, isn't it?


	16. Pretender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming face to face with one who foils you - a turning point.
> 
> You all know that Coryphishit is coming, so this is that. I changed details, but they aren't unimportant, i promise.

_When our truth is burned from history  
_

_By those who figure justice in fond memory, _

_witness me_

* * *

**#16**

The blood of the red, giant beast was burning on her face when she heard the roar. Where they should taste victory for the second time this night, she tasted ash and blood on her lips. Lara brushed one hand over her face, so she could see. When she looked up, she saw the shade against the scarred sky heading towards them. It roared a second time.

Lara didn’t hesitate, she looked over her shoulder to where Bull, Varric and Dorian where. Varric and Dorian had already started stumbling backwards, but Bull was looking at the sky in awe.

“Move!” Lara spit out, taking a couple of steps backwards herself, hastily. “_Now_!” She raised a shield behind them as she started running, the others in front of her. She could hear the fire crackling as the air heated up behind them. She raised one arm, enforcing the Shield, stopping her run. She could buy them time.

But she had not counted on the explosives nearby, though. Within seconds she was thrown to the ground as the dragonbreath set everything behind them aflame. The force threw her a few feet and the impact shot pain through her side. For a moment she thought she would black out.

The air had become unbearably hot in her lungs as she tried to sit up. There was something moving in the fire. Then, the ground behind her was shaking. On instinct, Lara used her staff to get to her feet again. Lara She would meet her end upright. The dragon was waltzing towards her. From the exit. She could only hope the others had made it away.

Lara stumbled backwards, staring at the giant beast and the pure hatred in its eyes. The air around it seemed rotten, and the force of the breath that hit her when the beast screeched almost into her face almost made her throw up. She coughed, instead, and barely registered the blood in her palms.

The Dragon rose, throwing its head back. The next cry seemed triumphant to her. The creature was intelligent. And it felt victorious. Lara scowled and couldn’t help it. She roared right back at the beast. They would see about that. She would take this monster to the grave with her.

“Enough,” a voice cut through the hot air, and Lara turned, holding her side. The man – the monster – before her seemed as rotten and tattered as the dragon. Lumps that could be skin or cloth where dangling from elongated limps, with flesh and bone protruding where they shouldn’t be. The grotesque thing as staring at her. It’s body seemed that of a corpse, much larger than any Kossith she had ever seen, but the eyes were alive and intelligent. Lara had never seen anything like it.

“Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

Lara wanted to turn around, wanted to look beyond the flames. Her instincts were to attack, but she knew what she had to do. Buy them time. Keep it talking. “What are you? What do you gain from this?”

The creature itself seemed in no haste to attack her. It was eying her. Whatever he was seeing, he did not seem impressed. On the contrary. “Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”

Lara’s mind was racing. What he was saying made little sense, but the way he was saying it did. Whatever creature it was, it spoke like a noble. He demanded admiration. Like one of the lordlings who had hired the “brutes” and then though the giants to dumb to converse with. And she knew what would keep a noble’S attention on her: that which vexed them most. Insults.

Lara threw her head back, and then she spit on the ground. A universal gesture. “Are you done bleating? You will get nothing out of me.”

The beast scowled at her. “You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not.” As he spoke, he raised his arm. An orb was glowing red in his hand, floating and cackling with energy. “I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now.”

With the last words, he threw his hand forward towards her. Lara expected a lightning bolt, or a shard of ice. What hit her felt like gravity, though – a force starting in her palm, gripping her entire left arm. It was as if the limb was being torn from the socket by the green light emitting from her hand. Whatever that magic was, it as trying to rip her open. Her arm was shaking, and Lara stared at the growing glow.

She could hardly heare the beast speak of the ritual she interrupted – the purpose she stole. She was so goddamn tired of that term. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched’, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.” The beast suddenly clenched its hand into a fist. And suddenly it felt like more energy was injected into her arm – like something was exploding in her palm.

Where before there had been a green glow there was now the energy of the ball swirling around her arm. Lara swore she could feel the rip in her hand widening. The pain made her knees buckle, and Lara felt them give in as she sank to the ground. The beast droned on. “And you used the anchor to undo my work! The gall!”

Revenge. This was what this was about. That is why he took the time to talk. For this beast this was personal. He was fucking angry at her for robbing him of a purpose – something she had never wanted in the first place. Something she had been running from all her life. The irony almost made her laugh. Instead, she coughed up more blood. She could barely kneel anymore. It seemed that purpose had found her – and it clearly required her death. “You did all this for this? The anchor, you say? What is it that I robbed you off?”

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” With surprising speed, he stepped to her side, grabbing her glowing wrist. Within a second he hoisted her up by it as if she weighed nothing. This close, she could smell the same rot on him she had smelt on the dragon. His gaze was entirely on her palm, transfixed by the green glow.

“I once breached the Fade in the name of another to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person.” His gaze drifted from the palm, to her face. He raised her up further, so they were face to face. Lara could hardly make out his face anymore, her vision blurring. She could hardly breathe anymore. “I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to Champion whither Tevinter, and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed.” Then, his gaze was back to her palm. “For I have seen the throne of the gods and it was empty.” Whatever he saw, it displeased him. From one moment to the next, Lara felt herself thrown through the air, her back hitting hard wood.

The impact forced the breath from her lungs. She was sure she felt a rib move in her ribcage. She forced herself back into a sitting position, gaze darting back and forth between the two beasts before her, dragon and whatever the fuck that Corypheus was. Then, briefly, she looked up towards the sky, but the gaze was blocked by smoke in the air, and the trebuchet she was leaning against.

“The Anchor is permanent. You have spoilt it with your stumbling.”

Lara pulled herself up against the wood.

“So be it. I will begin again. Find another way to give this world the nation and God it requires.”

There was a spark dancing in the air. For a moment, Lara thought it was from the fire around her. Then she managed to concentrate enough on it to understand what it was she was seeing behind Corpyheus. A signal. It was a fireball hovering briefly in the air over the mountain pass. She felt the breath leave her lungs in shaky relief, her head falling to her side. Her gaze fell upon the handle of the trebuchet. She had ended up where she needed to be. The spirits were with her.

“And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

Lara turned her gaze upon Corypheus once more. She raised her palms before her. The pain in her left had subsided as soon as the beast had lost interest. She mustered what little energy she had left, summoning her own energy, cackling around her right and left palms. She held his gaze, raising her chin. “Your arrogance blinds you. I have no desire to be rival to a fool. You may not have to suffer me much longer, but you will suffer defeat. _Itwasaam. Ebost issala_!”

She pulled her palms backwards as a fists, as she threw herself to her left, using her full body to set off the trebuchet the second that twin lightning struck the ground between herself and the beasts. The flash momentarily serving as distraction and blinding them. The thunder echoed a mere second later, together with the sound of the impact that the explosive had. The same sound that set off the avalanche.

It was on instinct that Lara used the moment to start running. It was a foolish thing, but somehow the thought was firmly in the back of her mind. _Run. Run towards the mountain. Run._

Then she leapt into the darkness and finally felt her consciousness give in. It was like drowning in her own mind, for a moment. And she though she heard someone whisper in it, before everything was dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first off: Sorry, y'all. I think at this point we'll have to keep it a two-weekly (bi weekly? every other week?) update thing, because more than that will be out until the end of April. There two student exchanges in march and i will move to a new apartment and there's a two weddings coming up. But I have a plan, and I know where I am going with the next five or so chapters, so that's something. 
> 
> As for chapter notes itself: cookies for those who can guess what's going in in the end there. I so look forward to hearing what you think of Lara's attitude to all of this. As for those of us who arent't fluent in Qunlat: Itwasaam is "We all fall" and "Ebost issala" is "Return to dust!"
> 
> ... and ya know what, i'll just go ahead an say it: This is such a weird scene in the game for me. Like, I was so excites to see Corypheus in the game, and I was _so_ thrown by how big he is. I also was _so_ confused as to why he bothered monologueing so much. And I was even more thrown by the weird dialogue options _we_ had. It's exciting but SO confusing scene for me. So i intepreted a lot to make sense of this.


	17. Bas IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The taste of death is salt on her tongue and ash in her lungs.

**#** **17**

_The salt is burning in her eyes and in her lungs. She is treading water, trying to reach the surface. But everything is dragging her down. The chain around her neck, the weight of the collar. _

_She wants to scream, to gasp for air, but cannot – the mouth sewn shut. Another is clinging to her side, and she has to grab them by the horns and pull them off of her. She doesn’t have time to look closely who they are. She doesn’t even want to see. She kicks them in the face, trying to get up before she runs out of air. _

_The surface comes close, but it is wrong, she realizes. It is red. Is the ship burning? Before she reaches the surface, she is engulfed by darkness._

_The first time she wakes, it is with panic. She opens her eyes, almost expecting to be back on the ship. But she is not. The panic returns and the memory crashes over her like the tide. Fire. There had been fire. _

_She rolls to the side, no matter the strain of the chain on her neck. She coughs, silently, but her mouth doesn’t open. She coughs up through her nose, water and bile burning her insides. She cannot even look up, and she doesn’t want to. She retreats to darkness._

_She wakes again, and this time she can breathe. But there is still salt. And pain. She sits up, too fast, and there is dizziness, too. But she forces to stand up, to look around. There is water, not far, but she is on sand. And there is someone else, on the ground. _

_She stumbles over, and sees a mouth sown shot, a horn broken off, and eyes wide open, half-rolled back. Dead. She doesn’t linger, she looks up, around. There are more on the ground._

_But they are all dead bodies and much more sand. It is not long, before her knees, her heart and her head give out. She is alone. She is alone with the sea that almost drowned her. What is she supposed to do? What is her purpose here? She thinks of her Tama. She wants to cry. She falls to the ground and back into darkness._

_When she wakes again, something is tugging on her. On the chain around her neck. She is on the sand again. She closes her eyes. She does not want to return to the sand and the sea. _

_Finally, the tugging on her chain returns and exhausts her. She looks up. He is kneeling beside her in the sand, a bit older than she is. He is collared and chained like she is. She realizes that his hand is glowing as he is touching her. He is like she. Of the same purpose. And she recognizes him. He was on the ship with her._

_She tries to sit up, but he moves his bound hands to her shoulder, pressing her down, shaking his head. He makes a sign with his other hand that she recognizes. Safe. It is hard to understand, and before her mind can wrap itself around this idea, it retreats into darkness._

_When she wakes again, it is once more with a tug of her chain, but a stronger one. It is only once, and insistent enough to yank her out of the darkness._

_When she opens her eyes, she comes face to face with a helmet – a familiar one. Arvaraad. He hoists her off the sand by the chain, off the ground, inspecting her and the pain that shoots off from the steel grip on her throat wakes the part of her that had been left in the sea. She reaches up to grasp at her collar, and sees that he is holding the chain of two others like her in his hand. The boy from before is one of them._

_And then he speaks. “Another Sarebas alive. Why am I cursed with this.” She does not know. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees the other one signing at her again, despite the shackles around his hands. Quiet. Don’t resist._

_So she tries not to. She couldn’t have, if she wanted to. The idea of being safe is over before it began. Whatever will happen to her will happen. Such is the order of the world. Her mind retreats into darkness again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that a nightmare sequence is this weeks update. On the bright side, due to Corona, i was forced to home-office.   
There's still lots of work, but here's hoping that I might get a chance to have more time to write? Some good has to come out of this clusterfuck.


	18. Antiva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The places our minds retreat to aren't always pretty. For Issalara, that place is a beach in Antiva.

_By your grounded and giving  
And darkening scorn  
Remember me love when I'm reborn_

* * *

**#18**

When she woke, there was salt on the tip of her tongue and a weight around her neck. Lara opened her eyes and shut them again, blinded by the sun. She rolled to the side, and heard the rattling of the chain around her neck. She sat up, after a moment, and looked around. It’s the coast, she realized. Antiva. Where she woke up with sea water in her lungs all those years ago. Where she probably had been meant to die.

Was this it? Was this death? Was this the afterlife? _A punishment for escaping death?_

_She is standing before she can think it, and stumbling. It feels like she is moving through water. The chain on her neck is heavy, and it is trying to drag her down. Like in a trance, she is walking along the coast, over to the other dead child. Where are the others? Stumbling on, over more dead bodies. _

_She realizes that she is crying, after a moment. Why? Because she is alone. She is alone and this is not where she is supposed to be. There is no order here. Only chaos. When she raises her hands to her face, to brush the tears away, her bound hands can not reach around her collar._

_She sinks to her knees, amidst the dead bodies. What is the point of trying to outrun death anymore? She could not survive this alone._

_But maybe she already had._

_Maybe she isn’t dead?_

_No, that could not be right. But something in her resisted._

“You are not dead.”

_Lara looks to her left. A boy was sitting where _the dead boy had been_. Had he always been there? _It was the spirit boy._ Where has she seen him before? _

“You aren’t here.” _He sounds so urgent. Suddenly he reaches out, and grabbs her by the shoulders. _“Guilt and fear are heavy but these are light. Can you feel it?” He reached for her chain.

_She tilts her head. It does not seem light._

“You are not dead and you are not collared or chained. You know the feeling of being without chains and the scars on your lips. You know me.”

_She reached up to her lips, on instinct and_ could indeed feel scars. Scars, not thread. And her hands were not bound. _But how did she know him?_ He seemed familiar.

“You remember me. We met in Haven.”

Yes. Right. She knew Haven. She had protected Haven. _Had she not?_

“You are Issalara Adaar. He named you for the ashes and dust. You know what this is.”

_She looked around. _And of course, he was right. She could not be here. She had been a child here. She had never returned to the coast of Antiva. But she had nightmares about this place. She reached up to her horns, and touched the chain dangling from it. If this was a dream, a nightmare, this was the Fade. But how? How was we here?

Lara looked the boy over. He had the form of the possessed child. Was this the spirit who had talked to her? Had he chosen this form for her to recognize?

“How did you come here?” She had long since learned to keep spirits from her mind, even asleep. And it was not easy for spirits to enter minds where they were not welcomed. That was part of what corrupted them.

“We are drawn to you. Your hand is a beacon,” he reached out, touching her palm. “But so is your fear. I wanted to help. But nightmares are different from dreams. You dream of death. It is heavy. Suffocating.”

Lara did not know what to say to that. The spirit seemed not to care. He pressed on. “You think of death when you are awake, too. You didn’t want to run. I knew that. You wanted to be buried with Haven. I could not let you.”

How could she have forgotten about that? The boy had come with them, to be the distraction and reach the trebuchet. It had been him who had urged her to run and to jump.

She turned her head and looked towards the Ocean. Even knowing it was not real it was strange to behold. The waves slid gently across the sand, like tendrils of foam reaching for her. “It is not that I wanted to die, spirit. I just don’t fear death.”

“You say that. You tell them and you tell yourself. But it is not true. You don’t fear dying, but you do fear death. It is on your tongue. That is why you are here. Why this looks like that place. You think this is where your death was supposed to happen. Your death has clung to you, like that word. Bas.”

Lara reacted before she could think. “Leave! Go back to the boy you possessed! You are not welcome spirit.” She swung her axe at him, expelling the spirit from her mind like she had learned to.

But where he had been, he was no more. And she dropped the axe, in surprise. When she turned, she was no longer at the beach. She was in the middle of the Rivaini Sea of Grass. _Then she hears the horn, behind her. On instinct she ducks, and hides._

_Her heart is hammering in her chest so loud that she thinks they have to hear it. If they hear it, everything is over. They will kill her – or worse, take her back. Break her, remake her. _

_She presses her palms to her face, and considers shutting her eyes. But she shouldn’t, she knows this. She has to wait for the right moment. She cannot stay in the same spot. They will find her, sooner or later. Ben-Hassrath are persistent._

_They pass by her, so close that if she would reach out, she could grab their booted ankles. She hears them talk amongst themselves in Qunlat. They talk of the Bas that escaped them._

_Then a hand is on her shoulder, turning her slightly. She expects it to be her sisters, and for a moment it is her – she has found her, is here to save her, as she had done - but it was _the spirit boy.

“I cannot leave you,” he urged. He sounded desperate. “You have to wake up. You survived. You have to get back to them.”

“I don’t.” Lara replied hotly, “Don’t have to. That’s the point. I am free.” She closed her eyes, pressing her palms to her face.

He drew back his hand. “Your freedom tastes like ash and emptiness. You are afraid of that, too. Of what could fill it – what could fill you. You don’t know what you are.”

She dropped her palms, to answer him. When she looked up, there was snow around them. But it wasn’t cold – it was hot. She reached out and caught the ash from the air.

“Go to them,” his voice had shifted; he was pleading with her, she realized. She looked towards him, and saw the ruins and ashes of the temple behind him.

“I have done my job. I have fulfilled my purpose. I have given them everything.” She was so tired of this.

“You have saved _them_. You need to save _yourself_ now. Despair is eating at you. Don’t let it.”

She heard the ocean behind her. She curled up in herself, the sound of her chains in her ears, her arms wrapping around her knees. “I don’t want to run away anymore. I am so tired of running away.”

“You are not running away from something anymore. You haven’t been, for years.”

The ocean murmured, dripping into the sound of whispering voices. Familiar laughter, curses in Qunlat.

“You were too afraid to let yourself fall. You held unto them. But you can go towards something now. For yourself.”

She glanced up towards the spirit again. He was looking at her with hope. And finally, the ash was turning to snow. She didn’t say it, but he knew her decision.

“Find your way to them. But don’t fall asleep anymore. Walk towards the light.”

This time, it was her reaching out. Green fog was trailing her fingertips. “What are you?” Hope? Was this a spirit of hope?

He looked at her, for a moment, with confusion. “I am Cole.”

* * *

When she woke, there was ash on the tip of her tongue and a weight on her left side. Lara opened her eyes and almost expected to see Cole. Instead, when she sat up, she found herself in a cave of ice, half-buried under debris. The air was burning in her lungs, but not from fire anymore, and it tasted of metal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dears, i hope you all are safe and healthy at home. I hope this slightly confusing chapter still made some sense at least to y'all. But, for clarity, what we have here is someone at the brink of death. And since she's a mage, the mind tends to wander into the fade on such occasions. And I am basically implying that Cole has been looking in on some of the nightmare chapters you guys have seen so far.
> 
> I feel a little bad for dumping this really not super happy chapter on you, but you know what we say in the Dragon Age fandom: The Dawn Will Come. And to remind you (and myself) of this, I am striving to get the next update ready by the end of the week.  
Keep safe and socially distant, but let me send you all a virtual hug. Read you soon!


	19. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is always darkest before the dawn.
> 
> (aka: My chapter summaries are getting more and more pseudo-philosophical bullshit and nonsensical and at this point i don't even know anymore.)

_I clutched my life_

_And wished it kept_

_My dearest love_

_I'm not done yet_

* * *

**#19**

Lara managed to roll over and pull herself out from under the rubble. As she moved, the chain dangling from her horn rattled lightly, and it was the sound of the echo that had her raise her head fully. She was in some kind of cave. Some wood that had given in under her might have saved her spine from snapping at the fall.

The air in her lungs was burning and when she brushed a hand over her face, there was blood. It was too dark to make out where it was coming from. She couldn’t feel any particular wound anymore, but that could be adrenaline – or the cold. She had been unconscious, and it was hard to tell for how long. But she was freezing. Her staff, however, had not fallen far from her, and seemed almost undamaged.

Lara used it as a crutch, and began walking. Slowly. Step by step. Stumbling, but dragging herself forward. Step by step. A more rational part of her brain was telling her that she probably was wounded. That no one was looking for her. And the others were far away already. She was alone in this. If worst came to worst, she was behind enemy lines. There was a very slim chance of survival.

But another part of her mind refused; refused to die here; refused to break that promise she felt she had given. She would not give up – not here, not now.

And as if on cue, there finally was pain. But this pain shot up her arm, and forced her back down on one knee. Lara stared down at the green glow that was licking at her flesh, as if it was trying to split her arm open. It felt like an angry dog tearing at her flesh.

She raised the palm to her face, staring at it. “Angry that I robbed you of your purpose, are you?” Her words were raspy and so quiet they barely created an echo. “Makes two of us.” And it was true. There was anger in her, but also something else, burning in her chest.

Lara pulled herself up, and stretched the hand ahead of her as best she could. She was using the painful glow as a source of light, to see where she was going. It made it a bit easier. “Be angry. Try to rip me apart. I will make use of you.”

She left the cave, entering a small tunnel section. “Don’t know how yet. Gotta make it out first.” Shokrakra would be laughing if he could see her now – talking to a disembodied glow in her hand. Or worse, talking to an enemie’s tool. One she had gotten by accident.

No, he would not be laughing, Lara mused. He would be annoyed with her. She should focus, come up with a plan. Rambling nonsense would not help her make her way out of this. She was forgetting all of her training.

Lara allowed herself to sink against the wall with her shoulders, lowering her arm again, and examining herself. With one hand, she peeled away her coat and opened her armor. There was a gaping wound torn into her left side. It wasn’t bleeding much anymore and looked almost cauterized. The pain when she inhaled told her she probably had a few cracked ribs. And from the way blood kept tickling down the side of her face, she probably hit her head. She wasn’t absolutely certain that these were all of her wounds, but it would do, for now.

She couldn’t well examine her own head. The most danger was still in the wound to her side blood loss would be the first enemy to take her down here. She could afford to lose the undershirt. With the armor and the coat on top, she would still not freeze too badly.

Lara leaned her staff against the wall, and used both of her hands to just rip off strands of the textile, and began wrapping it tightly around her mid-section.

After inhaling deeply, Lara grabbed her staff again and continued her path down the tunnel. It still was a slow process, but she kept her eyes on the morose wood beneath her feet. She was surprised that this was still in relatively decent shape. Whatever this was, it had not been abandoned too long ago. Wood like this began to rot after a while in surroundings such as this.

She tried to focus on that, instead of the pain, and it worked. She catalogued her surroundings well enough to notice the shift in the echo of her steps and the chains. The air changed, too. Was she coming closer to the surface? The green glow made it difficult to see ahead.

Or was there light ahead of her? She barely saw it, but yes. An ethereal glow – demons. Lara cursed, internally, but pushed on. There was no way back, only forward. She patted herself down but found that none of her potion vials had survived the fall.

When she was close enough to see the cave, it seemed that she was also seen. She had barely set foot outside of the tunnel into the next cave when a shade threw energy her way. Instinctively, she raised her hand and her barrier, and ignored the pain shooting up her side.

She had also raised the wrong hand, and was surprised to find it flare to live more than it usually did. It was as if something had been torn open, and she could feel the thing – the anchor – pulse in her palm. It was pulling towards something, in a way that wasn’t physical.

Without really thinking, Lara allowed it to pull – had no energy to truly resist would be more accurate - and it felt as if part of her arm was physically being torn from her and simultaneously as if a weight was added to it. On instinct, she pull it back, and felt more than she saw the fabric of reality rip open around her.

What seemed like a small rift seemed to hover around her, pressing a wave of magic into the cave as if it was exhaling. After the exhale following the inhale – sucking everything ethereal in from around them. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down. Lara felt it tug at the anchor, as if it was trying to unravel her, but the pull was also strong enough to unravel the demons around her. Exploding into green lights they seemed to flicker out of existence. And as if it had sucked itself full, the rift imploded into itself. And the sudden lack of pull made Lara stumble a few steps forward, before she could catch herself upon her staff.

In the name of all that was holy – fuck, in the Name of Andraste even – what had that been?

Lara stared at the angry, gaping green in her palm, but it was not answering. With a shaky breath, Lara decided not to try to wait to see if it would try to devour her next.

She pushed forward, to where the even colder air was coming from. She realized that before her, torches were burning. Someone had been here recently. Had to. These torches only lasted about eight hours.

And then she stepped out of the cave. Around her, a snow storm was howling, and everything was dark. She raised her palm to shield her face, taking a few steps. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flicker, and something flickered inside her. She didn’t hesitate, but pushed on, through the snow towards that flicker, that was becoming a light. Before her, she could make out an abandoned fire, half-shielded under a broken down cart. Not a way that could have been accidental. Someone had tried to protect the fire. And in this storm, even shielded, a fire would have not have persisted for long. And inside her, something was burning again. Hope.

She looked around, but there were no steps, and she could see nothing else. She was in the Mountains, but she had no way of knowing which direction to go. Lara braced herself against the cart, for just a moment, closing her eyes.

There was a good chance she would walk in the wrong direction and get lost. But if she returned to the cave, she would bleed out and die, sooner or later. It was too close to the enemy. Her only option was to walk. Walk or die – walk until she died.

And for whatever it was worth, she had a newfound resolve not to die. If only she also had some of that faith that the Seeker had. Maybe then some higher power would show her the way.

But when she looked up, there was no sign. Only the broken down cart. Lara stared at it, for a moment longer. It was as good a guess as any, but maybe the direction in which the cart was facing was the direction it had been pulled towards when it had broken down. It was going up, slightly, in that direction. If she was lucky, this was the pass between the two mountains.

With a sigh, Lara started to walk, staring at the snow.

She walked for a while, staring down like that, but couldn’t say for how long. Whenever she tried to look up, the wind was hurting her eyes too much to see. She was leaning heavier on the crutch, though. Once, she passed another broken down cart, and tried to ignore the blood in the snow around it.

How many had made it out? Had this been in vain? Had Dorian and Varric made it back to the group? The Iron Bull wouldn’t have allowed them to linger, right? He was a Ben-Hassrath, he was too smart not to recognize the situation they had been in. She would murder him if he had allowed anything to happen to them. But she had to make it back to them before that. She pushed the thought aside, and tried to push ahead. She wasn’t able to feel her face or her arms anymore.

After a while, she could make out a group of trees ahead and headed for them. The snow was up to her knees now. Hoping that they might shield her a little from the wind, Lara walked towards them. It worked enough for her to look up enough to make out – a fire stand? But one without fire. There even was a pot.

Lara pushed closer to it, and held her palm above the ash. She couldn’t feel any warmth coming off of it, but that could be because her fingers had lost all feeling. As her feet were about to. She was so tired, and her body was aching. She was so, _so_ tired.

A howl cut through the storm around her. It was barely audible, but it was there, and it jolted her back to her surroundings. She had not noticed that she had sunk to her knees. Lara raised her head, but couldn’t make out any movement other than the snow. If a pack of wolves – even regular wolves – were to gang up on her now, she would lose this battle. There was no answering howl. A lone wolf, huh? So one on one. The irony of that almost made her smile. She grit her teeth instead, and gripped her staff with both hands, pulling herself up and forward.

The cold and the exhaustion had its teeth sunk into her though. Every step it felt like something was dragging her. All she could do was to stubbornly drudge on. It felt like hours, and she swore that she could feel the air getting even colder. She must have gotten high up by now.

She saw another fire stand ahead of her out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t have the nerve to move over and see if this one had any warmth. Because if it didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to continue this climb.

So she bit her lower lip, and still gripping the staff with both hands, and pushed ahead. She felt her legs shaking, when she heard anther unexpected sound. Someone was calling. “The boy was right! It’s her!” Lara raised her head, and made out silhouettes coming towards her. With a growl, she raised her hand, read to die fighting, when she recognized the voice.

“Thank the Maker!” The Seeker?

“Someone call The Iron Bull! We need to carry her!”

Her knees gave in before she realized it. And then the felt herself falling face forward into the darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
....  
....Am I implying that Solas is the wolf, in the Fade maybe, looking for her after Cole stubbornly insisted that they wait and that she is coming? And that is why Cullen and Co are up there at all? Yes, yes I am.
> 
> All of that aside, we have reached the point in the story where the divergence from canon is gonna become more prominent, honestly. Not exactly yet, but soon-ish. And it is overdue, I fully admit. But Lara just had to be hit in the head and face death a bit to grow a little. So I hope you could bear the retelling of this journey from Lara's persective. A more heartwarming scenes is gonna come up soon, i promise. Also, I mean - in these days, a story of survival is sort of all we can hope for, right? Right???
> 
> As always, my dears, i hope you all are safe and healthy at home.
> 
> PS: Lara's talking to her palm up there? 100% inspired by me catching myself talking increasingly to inanimate objects and body parts in this involuntary isolation. Funny what that does to people. Clearly I am become a grandiose writer from it. /sarcasm


	20. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is where the hugs are.
> 
> (Once upon a time there were chapter summaries. I am considering just cancelling them in the future.)

_And in a few days  
I will be there, love  
Whatever here that's left of me  
Is yours just as it was_

* * *

**#20**

She jolted upwards out of the darkness and for a moment the world around her seemed to blur in colours and light. She felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her back and heard words that she could not process. Instinctively, she turned her head, bared her teeth and growled. The air around her grew colder as she summoned her magic forth on reflex.

When her eyes were able to focus, she was looking at a young pale face filled with an expression of surprise and fear. The woman dressed in chantry garb stumbled from her, hands raised, to the edge of the tent before Lara could fully process what she was seeing. The Sister made the sign of the maker and stumbled out.

With the spinning subsiding, pain seemed to be drilling itself in the side of her head and Lara instinctively pulled up her knees to bury her head in them. But this sent pain like spikes into her side and wave of nausea unexpectedly hit her. She barely managed to fall on her side and threw up into the snow, next to the makeshift cot she was on.

For a second time, a pair of hands was on her shoulders, seemingly to steady her as she threw up. Her stomach was pretty empty, so it didn’t take long before it settled down and Lara rolled on her back to look up at the person on her side. She barely recognized him, with the stubble and the bags under his eyes. A little less baby-faced by now, wasn’t he.

“Scout Elijah,” she croaked out, her voice hoarse. One of Harding’s men. She liked him. He was honest. Easy to read. Non-threatening.

The young man managed a very unconvincing smile. “Yes. It is good to see you awake, Herald.” He knelt down next to her and held out a cup. Lara tried to sit up and barely managed to. He wordlessly pressed a hand between her shoulder blades to help her.

“_Adaar._ It’s Adaar,” Lara mumbled, sniffing the cup. It wasn’t water. She recognized one of the smells as a herb used in healing potions. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know what’s in it, but the Healer and Mother Giselle have been feeding it to you and the other wounded for the past two days.” He hesitated only briefly but long enough for Lara to notice. He seemed a little uncomfortable. “It’s supposed to help you regenerate blood. You lost a lot of blood,… Adaar.”

Lara wordlessly raised an eyebrow at him. The discomfort grew on his face, and he looked towards where the Sister had run out. Once more that forced smile. “It was honestly a scary sight when that mercenary carried you here. Half of your face was drenched in blood and you were covered in ashes and ice. We weren’t really sure if you were alive, you were badly banged up. They weren’t entirely sure you’d make it. The healer isn’t very familiar with Qunari physiology either.”

Ah. So the scary oxwoman had looked even scarier than usual. Lara sighed, sniffing the cup once more. She had been out for two days? If they had been feeding it to her already, there was no point to refuse now. If someone here had been trying to kill her, they wouldn’t have waited for her to wake up.

She raised the cup to her lips and then threw her head back to drain it at once. _Bottom’s up, _Harellan’s amused voice echoed in her head as she gulped the bitter liquid down. _Get it over with, don’t be a wuzzy. The worse it tastes, the more it helps._

She passed the empty cup back to Elijah, and looked around briefly. There were some cots in use – two, an elf and a dwarf, unconscious or asleep – and three more empty ones that might have been in use recently. 

How many wounded did they have? How many had died – how many survived? She needed to talk to … to someone. She needed to know. But she could barely sit. Fuck.

She looked back to Elijah, who had gotten up again, putting the cup away. He looked tired. Had they stationed him at her bed side to watch over her? She would tell him to rest. But first, he might be able to help her get up.

Before she could ask though, Elijah gestured towards where the Sister had gone. “The Spymaster and Master Pavus asked to be informed if you wake. And the Commander, too, I think. Will you be okay alone for a moment?”

She felt a strange sense of relief for a moment that she couldn’t quite place. Then she realized that she was glad to hear that they had made it. Had she become this attached already? She simply nodded and then suddenly, on a whim, grabbed Elijah’s arm. He looked at her, a little puzzled. “What about the Ambassador and the Seeker? Thetras?”

He smiled, and this time it was genuine. “They are all well, mostly unharmed. Shall I send them to you?”

Lara let go of his arm, shaking her head. “No. Thank you.” She allowed herself to sink down on the pillow as Elijah left. She closed her eyes for a moment, focused on breathing. Then she carefully pressed into her ribs, prodding what she remembered as injuries. She had healed up pretty well, doubtlessly the use of magic.

She opened her eyes when she heard the rustling of the tent fabric being pushed open and a fresh wave of cold air came in. It was the Sister from earlier, tying the fabric back to leave the front of the tent open. She tried – and failed – not to look over to Lara. When they made eye contact, the girl – because that was what she was, really – flinched and rushed away a moment later.

But the open front allowed Lara to see more of the camp. There was a fireplace nearby that people were gathered around. Another open tent with more cots was also close. She tried to sit up to see more, but it was dark outside already.

That is, until surrounded by dancing mage lights, Dorian suddenly rushed into the tent. He was at her side with three long strides, staring her down. And then there was an audible, deep exhale. “So you are finally awake,” he exclaimed, sounding almost … accusing? “Took your long enough, after all that effort I put in to save you.”

He knelt down, as Lara once more, very slowly sat up. His hands were on her in seconds, roaming her with a soft glow. He spoke on, before Lara could even think of something to say. “You do realize that I have saved your life three times now and you keep trying to throw it away, yes?”

There was slight tremble to his voice, his grip on her was a little harsh, even. The raw emotion on him was… startling.

“I had half a mind to just wait and see what happens. Clearly you have such an urgent need to die that it seemed almost rude not to give you what you want.”

The glow around his palms died, and he pulled back. Finally, he made eye contact with her. Underneath all that anger was visible relief. He had been worried for her. Genuinely worried. It was still puzzling to see.

“And you were fighting it, you know. Had a terrible fever and some fever dream nightmare episodes. People had to hold you down while I worked on you.”

For a moment, he just stared at her. Maybe he was waiting for her to say something. No, _clearly_ he was waiting for her to say something. But what could she say? Thank you? That seemed… off.

It cost her more than she was willing to admit, but she raised her hand and settled it on his shoulder. A part of her mind didn’t want this – it was risky in more ways than one. But she was tired of always being on-guard. She had committed herself to this cause. To these people. It was time she owned up to that. Dorian’s expression was warry, one eyebrow raised.

After steeling herself, she pulled him close into a very awkward, one armed hug, his head against her collar bone and her head on top of his. It felt weird and Lara felt proven right as to why she didn’t hug people. But it had the benefit of not having to look at his face as she spoke up. “I am glad. I am glad that we didn’t have to die together, Dorian.”

She could feel him shift against her shoulder, his moustache scraping her skin, clearly ready to say something. But then, after a moment, instead he brought up his arm and patted her back, singlehandedly making it a little less awkward. And she heard him chuckle against her collar bone. “You are awful at this, Adaar. I am more and more coming to the conclusion that you were raised by Brontos.”

Lara smiled lightly. “They do call us oxmen, don’t they.”

At this, Dorian laughed outright. “My god, she’s telling jokes now, too. I knew you had hit your head,- obviously, with all that blood - but this badly?” He pulled back slightly, only to place a hand on her forehead. “Do you have a fever?” His grin subsided just a bit after a second. “_Kaffas_, you actually _do_!”

Lara leaned back a little, not letting go of Dorian, but also shaking her head to have his hand slip off. “I am fine. Tell me what happened. How many did we lose?”

Her words caused Dorian to grimace. “Do you think I went around and counted the people? No, we’re not having this conversation. Someone will be here to hound you with all the grim details of our futile situation any moment now, I’m sure.”

And, adjusting his grip on her, he pulled her back in. Lara let it happen. Over Dorian’s shoulder, she looked towards the campfire – and found the Iron Bull watching them. She tensed up immediately, but before she knew how to react, he turned and disappeared into one of the tents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not planned, but in a casual conversation i summarized what had happened to Lara in the past chapters or so. And the other parties of that conversation agreed _strongly_ that i had to make up to you guys with fluff what you had to endure so far. I felt very called out.  
I will not give you false promises of less angst in the future (because I would be incapable of delivering that) but I may try to include interludes of fluff just a tad bit more often.  
So here. In times of social distancing, have a hug-chapter. I am really delivering on that "Dorian is a good friend"-tag, I think.
> 
> There are two more canon-conversations bound to happen before I go off-script and I am considering smashing both of 'em into one chapter that'll just be twice the length of the usual chapters. Just so you know where we are headed.
> 
> As always, my dears, i hope you are healthy and safe and will keep healthy and safe. In doubt, imagine Dorian to be hugging you via magic from far away.


	21. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of looking forward to a dawning new future and light being shed on new perspectives.
> 
> (Fair warning, this chapter is twice as long as usual.)

_Screaming the name of a foreigner's god  
The purest expression of grief_

* * *

**#21**

Lara stared at the roof of the tent, trying to block out the voices nearby. The fighting had started moments after they had left her tent and she had been ordered to try and rest some more. They had addressed everyone – on her behalf – and recounted a simplified version of the events. Cullen had insisted on that transparency.

In all honesty, she had been glad for it. And glad that she had not had to deliver the news of whom – or what – had attacked them to the people. She did feel better, but not that strong yet. Dorian had not moved from her side until finally he had admitted to his own exhaustion and gone to lie down.

The voices of the Commander, the Spymaster and the Ambassador however were keeping her up. She could hear that they had left the tent and were now standing close to the fire. So out in the open. Such public display of unrest among them. Foolish. 

With sigh, Lara rose slightly, half leaning on her elbows, watching them at each other’s throats. If this were a mercenary group, they’d have a leader settling this fight. Watching them at each other’s throats she could not decide who of them should effectively take this position. But someone would have to – this could not keep up for much longer.

It occurred to her, watching them, that this had been an assessment Bull had makes weeks earlier already. A part of her wondered how he would have acted on that knowledge. Clearly he had not intervened on any of their behalf, but then again – neither had she. She scowled.

“Shh, you need rest.”

Lara glanced at Mother Gisele, who had been tending the injured dwarf on the cot close to hers. Briefly, Lara looked towards her, then back to the group. “I’m fine.”

The Mother seemed unwilling to take this dismissal for what it was. “You are not yet fine, but you will be. We all will be, thanks to you. You saved us from the enemy, but in doubt, we turn to blame.”

The Commander was ruffling his anger now and storming off. Cassandra seemed ready to throw her shield after him. Mother Giselle had herself turned to watch them and spoke what Lara had been thinking moments earlier. “Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.”

It might. But they would not have much of an opportunity to settle this if they remained here any longer, wherever that was. Sometimes a common goal could unite people as much as a common enemy. Maybe she needed to remind them. Inhaling deeply, steeling herself for the ache in her side, Lara sat up further.

“You need to rest, Herald,” Mother Giselle repeated, insistently. She looked ready to each out and press her back, but Lara had already swung her legs to the side, so she was sitting properly.

Lara reached for her staff, where Dorian had helpfully placed it on the ground. “No. _We_ need to move.”

“They are uncertain where. And there are other questions, too – about you.”

When Lara rose, prepared to ignore the chantry woman, Mother Giselle moved a little, as if she was ready to get up and move in her way. But she didn’t. She folded her hands in her lap, intent on eye contact. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand … and fall. And now we have seen her _return_.”

It was clear that the woman had something to get of her chest before she would allow Lara to leave, so Lara crossed her arms and waited. She looked around the tent. Where had her armor been brought to? Dorian had returned her staff, but not her armor.

“The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trails seem ordained.” As expected of a woman of the faith. This was the topic once more. “That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we’, perhaps, must come to believe?”

“I do not.” It blurted out of her before she could help it.

“Pardon?” Giselle seemed confused.

“I must not come to believe that which you speak of. Your believe is not mine.”

Had it not been enough that she had been lectured on the heavens and of godly power by that monster? Lara had no desire to talk of this more than necessary. It was enough that she remembered the expression on the face of the Seeker. As if someone had shaken the very foundations of her world.

It wasn’t that Lara couldn’t emphasize. She could. The imagined taste of salt and ash rose when she recalled her own imagined order of the world crumbling down. But this, what they were talking about, was not her world. She was not the one in need of consoling here – nor did she need to be guided into what she should think of it. And, in the name of the openness and honesty she had pledged herself to, maybe she should make this more clear once more.

“I felt no divine aid at the Conclave. I have seen no maker’s intervention in Haven. I do not endure anything in the name of your god. What I _have _seen is people struggling under the chains of your church. What I have seen is people endure the judgement decreed by people of the chantry – and other faiths. What I have seen is believe being called upon to hunt that which is different, to put some people over others, to rule over every aspect of a person’s life, to substitute personal freedom for misguided rules and orders. The Qun and the Chantry are alike in that. So do not speak to me of that which I must endure. What I endure is my own choice.”

Lara turned, once more relying on her staff like a crutch, make a few steps in the direction where they were still fighting. Her own choice. She spoke grandly, but what choices had she really made? What choice was she willing to make here?

They were done shouting at each other, at least. But it was the silence that spoke of something being at the point of breaking here. A crushed, demurred kind of silence that was the absence of sound. Then she felt the Mother step up next to her. “It is troubling to hear that you have not yet seen the good that believe can cause. I can only hope that you may find it one day. I apologize if I spoke out of turn, He- _Adaar_.”

Lara didn’t offer a reply, but seemingly the Mother didn’t expect her to. Instead she started singing. She didn’t sound as tired and sad as she had sounded just mere moments ago. It was a song of hope, a promise of a dawn.

And one by one – beginning with the Nightingale – more and more voices joined in. Lara took one step back into the tent as she observed. Observed as with each added voice, more life seemed to return into the faces of the people. Others emerged from their tents, to listen or to join. It was a display that put her earlier words to shame – but it also made Lara deeply uncomfortable when she noticed the looks some of them – more and more of them- were send her way. ‘Look to the sky’, they were singing, but they were looking to her.

And as the first man kneeled, Lara couldn’t help but take a step back. It didn’t stop it. It didn’t stop them. They poured out of their tents, kneeling in front of her, singing _at_ her. It felt like an attack that she knew not how to defend herself against.

She looked around, not even sure what she was looking for. Dorian? Varric? What she saw, instead, was the Iron Bull. He was standing nearby, in the shadow of the tent where she had seen him earlier. He was watching her, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he could read every thought she had on her face.

And as the singing ended, some erupted in cheers. People pulled others in for hugs.

And next to her, Mother Giselle spoke up. “Faith may have yet to find you, but it has already found them.”

So much for that. Lara turned away from the woman, turning to leave. She needed a moment to herself, away from … from this. But when she turned, she almost walked into Solas, who had weaseled his way in to step behind her. It startled her. The quiet ones always were the dangerous ones. His expression was unreadable.

“A word?”

And without waiting for confirmation, he walked away from the clearing. Lara was happy to oblige him, in that case. Any excuse to leave this moment.

As she followed Solas and as always when around elves, Lara couldn’t help but notice the difference of the crunching sound the snow made under her every step and how he didn’t even leave behind footprints.

Solas walked far enough away from the camp to drown out the sounds of people still singing, of hopeful laughter and sorrowful weeping. Someone had placed laterns at the edges of the camp, apparently. With an almost careless wave of his hand, Solas rekindled one with veil fire. The soft blue glow lit up his features in an expression of contemplation and mild contempt.

“A wise woman, worth heeding. Her kind understands the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it.”

Was he berating her? He had hardly engaged her in casual conversation so far. A few questions about how she was taught magic that she had mostly evaded, and a few remarks when she had mentioned her dalish mentor. They had not, so far, talked about ‘faith’. She remembered Harrellan cursing to his gods, and she knew that Sera believed in Andraste. Who did Solas believe in, if anyone at all?

It seemed this was not the topic Solas’ thoughts dwelled on, however. He crossed his hands behind his back, turned to look at her. “The orb Corypheus carried. The power he used against you. It is elven.”

Lara raised an eyebrow. He had not been there. How could he have known of the origin of the orb she had barely managed to describe to the others? It seemed the question was transparent enough on her face.

“When you were unconscious, you had nightmares. I was asked to seek you in the fade to soothe them, so that you may be treated without endangering Dorian. I saw the orb and recognized it.”

Lara tore her gaze from his sharply, staring at the flame. She knew of her nightmares. Remembered them vividly. How much had he seen? Was this what he wanted to talk about? Visions of a red future? Visions of Ben-Hassrath hunters? Visions of Antiva?

And how had he been able to enter her nightmares at all? She knew that he walked the fade, but walking into the mind of another person was a different matter. She had steeled herself against spirits and dreamers. Lara couldn’t help but look him over. What did she know of him at all? Not his belief, not his abilities, clearly. Not of his past.

Solas was more capable than she had given him credit so far.

“Your nightmares are your own, Adaar. I will not question you on them.”

Again, he had seemingly been able to read her expression. Which was only yet another proof that she had disregarded him too much. She turned, once more, to look at him. His expression was not half as transparent to her. There was calculation, maybe something kind, but also steel that she had not seen there before.

“Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived. Nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb’s origin.”

So this was what he really had meant to discuss? That seemed odd. “Is it a common object for them to know of it?”

He tilted his head slightly. “No. They are ancient; foci, used to channel magicks. But if I can know of them from such things in the Fade, from old memories of older magic, some others might, too.”

Lara crossed her arms over her chest. The fade had never been a place she explored much. According to Solas, a loss. According to her old mentors, a blessing. Recently, the places she seemed trapped in in the fade had seemed more like a curse to her. “If they are not easy to find or common, how would people know of those foci, then. Corypheus seems to be of Tevinter. Why not blame them?”

Solas seemed not impressed with her objection. “Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire’s magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it.”

For a moment, Lara was unsure what he spoke of when he said “our alliance”. Was this what he considered his position to be in their group? Certainly, he had been helpful. An expert on many obscure things.

“Do you speak for all elves, Solas? Or for a group in particular?”

Finally, for once, her question seemed not something he had forseen. “Pardon?”

“When you say ‘my people’ and ‘our alliance’, what do you mean.”

His expression remained unreadable, so she pressed on. “I have heard you talk to Sera; you are not from an alienage. I have seen your reaction to the Dalish; you are not fond of them. So when you speak of your people, who do you refer to?” Maybe this was not the time to realize that she knew little about this apostate. Maybe she had been careless in her strife to keep her distance. But this would not be allowed to carry on. She would have to know those that she committed to henceforth.

His reaction surprised her. For a moment, it seemed to waver between surprise and disdain, before it settled into an expression almost too relaxed. “I could ask the same of you, Adaar.” His whole posture shifted a little, his shoulders rolled further back. “You treat the Iron Bull and all mentions of the Qun like a vital threat to your life. You bare your teeth at him like a wounded animal. Yet the air around you grows colder when a mercenary or a visiting noble assume you are Vashoth.”

His expression would have anyone from a distance assume they were talking about the weather. And yet, Lara could not help but feel threatened enough to lean a little less on her staff, plant her feet more firmly in the ground. She had been trained to read body language, but his was giving her mixed signals.

For a moment, both simply stared at each other. If she chose to press on, he would do likewise. The question was why. Was he merely pointing out a similarity? A complicated relationship with their own kind? Asking her to see kinship? Or was the implication a thread. Not similar difficulties, but similar secrets to hide.

This was not the moment for her to unravel this. She would have to keep it in mind for another time. For the better or worse, he had brought her here to speak of an alliance. It would have to be enough for the moment. It was safer to have him on her side, for the moment, until she had time to figure him out.

“Should word get out, the confusion would paint elves as an easy target,” Lara spoke, being the first to break eye contact, staring at the veil fire. She submitted to his line of thought for now. And phrased it as a fact that was neutral ground.

“History would agree. But there are steps we can take to prevent such distractions. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed _you_.” He made a small gesture with his head towards the camp, where people had been singing and kneeling just moments ago. “Scout to the north. Be their guide."

Lara recognized that what he was talking about was tactics. Strategy of cutting losses after a battle. The same reason Shokrakar had them help rebuild their side after a battle or even join a celebration. It was a role she had assumed many times.

“There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build - grow.” He stared off, into the distance.

Lara frowned. “What are you speaking of. Do not be vague if we are to be allies in this.”

Torn from his thought, Solas looked at her. “And here I thought we had been allies already,” he remarked drily.

“This constitutes more open talk than we have had in all months prior to this.”

“And do you think that lack of openness is entirely on my side?” Solas almost strolled around her, forcing her to turn with him as to not lose sight of him. “You have cloaked yourself in the mantle of the silent mercenary who trusts no one and is not paid to think – or lead. You have played your role well, but you have outgrown it.” He stopped in front of her. “And I rather think you have come to the same conclusion, haven’t you.”

He spoke, as if all of this had been apparent. As if it had not been something she had been struggling with ever since she woke up. As if he had known this all along. Her eye narrowed. She could not decide if she was impressed or more worried. “The conclusion I have come to is that you are more dangerous than I would have given you credit for prior to this.”

For the first time in this interaction his relaxed expression seemed genuine. He seemed even a bit amused. ”And I think I ought to take this as a compliment, coming from you?”

Lara shrugged. “Considering the amount of surprise? Take it any way you want.”

The corners of his lips twitched, briefly. The his expression settled into a frown. “I am not sure I enjoy your newfound openness if it comes with rudeness.”

A sigh escaped her, involuntarily. “And I am not sure if I enjoy being told to take up the mantle of a false herald twice in one evening. It seems we both will have to bear our new burdens.”

For another, long moment, both stared at each other. And then Solas nodded. Lara returned the gesture. And both moved away, back to the camp, on different paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there! As you can tell, I decided to indeed wrap both conversations up in one chapter. Partially because I will be busy next week (birthdays, lots of them) and partially because I was very nervous about the second conversation here. 
> 
> Since there's going to be very little Solas in this story, it kind of counted more what this actualy real first interaction would look like. And for a character who is constantly expecting for Ben-Hassrath spies to come outta no-where and strike her down, it didn't make sense for her not to react to what i blatantly consider a slip up. I want it on the record that the 'allies' and the 'my people' comments are verbatim from the game. So, yeah. I was mulling over how to handle that for ages. 
> 
> For next chapter, look forward to a drunk character, or two. Not gonna go into details, but i am going to give y'all (and me) the fun that is drunk girls in a bathroom in the form of drunk girls in Thedas. 
> 
> As always: be safe, be healthy, be careful. Also, if you need to vent (story unrelated stuff, too), feel free to use the comment section or come to my tumblr inbox. No questions asked.


	22. Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the march continues.

_There's an art to life's distractions / To somehow escape the burning weight / the art of scraping through_

* * *

**#22**

Once, in what seemed like a different life time, the Valo-Kas had taken on a job in Ferelden. It had been in the days shortly after Ralshokra had stepped down and Shokrakar had still been seeking to find his own path as their leader. One of his freshly recruited warriors, Sara, was a Ferelden woman with a wide grin, strong shoulders, red hair and freckles. She had convinced him that the Fereldeners would be easier to work with than the nobles of Orlais.

Sara had loved her homeland deeply, had spoken affectionately of the rebel spirit that they embodied and their war dogs. Wherever they went, Sara could never pass by a dog without petting it. She had sung many a bawdy song, too, about their history.

Stepping through the snow, now, as they were travelling north in these mountains, Lara remembered what Sara had said about her country. The name of the country meant ‘fertile valley’. But where there was a valley, there were also mountains. And according to Sara, the true nature of her people was in these icy mountains. Proud barbarian roots, harsh climates that made the people sturdy and courageous.

Eva, Sara’s lover, had hated the icy climate and complained about Sara’s tirades about her homeland. In these past two days, however, Lara had finally come to understand it a bit. She had been scouting ahead of the group, as per Solas’ _recommendation_. There was something in these misty, snowy mountains that spoke of … freedom.

Sometimes Cassandra tagged along, in a restless sort of way. Solas only came to steer her on different paths. A few times Krem had joined her, and they had exchanged stories about their different mercenary jobs. Varric, occasionally, seemed to need to get a complaint off his chest about mountains and demand a break. Though Lara suspected that he did that more for the people, to remind her that they needed rests more than she did. She had been regaining her strength rather quickly with Dorian’s attentions to her health. Dorian himself vehemently refused to scout ahead – too cold for him, apparently.

Lara found she enjoyed scouting ahead on her own the most. It gave her room to breathe that she did not feel she had when they camped for the night. True to what Solas had said and that night with the singing had shown, people were indeed looking at her differently. She was used to be the oxwoman, the mercenary, the foot soldier. She was not used to these reverent gazes of hope.

Varric tried to convince her to eat more openly with the people. Surprisingly, Cullen had asked this of her, too. He thought it might be important. The Commander still was a little distant with her, so him requesting anything was noteworthy. So she had tried. But she couldn’t. She still hadn’t adjusted to the new kind of staring and felt too vulnerable in the open like this.

So each time they took a break or camped for the night, she received her food and then usually retreated from the crowds. She had begun reading Varric’s book before sleep. The one that the Seeker had given to her upon their arrival in Haven.

It was a difficult read. At first, because she had trouble focusing on what was happening in the plot. She was dissecting the novel more than reading it, trying on the one hand to find out how much of it was truth and, on the other hand, trying to learn what she could about Varric through the narration. But about a third into the novel it became difficult for a very different reason. One that returned nightmares to her that did not include red lyrium.

She had heard of the invasions in the Free Marches. Kirkwall had not even been the city state that had been hit the hardest by the Qunari. It had been one reason why many mercenary companies had warned each other through the grape vine to avoid the area altogether if they had Tal-Vashoth among their ranks.

Herahrad had been there, close-by to Starkhaven. He had left the area and traveled across the ocean back to Antiva for the first time in many years because of it. But his letters had always been cryptic, short. It was different reading about this. Reading about the Tal-Vashoth who did turn out the way most people would expect them to. Reading about the Qunari and their believes, even if filtered through paper and ink .

She was almost too focused on forcing herself through these pages to hear the nearby footsteps and the rustling of someone walking among the tents. She lowered the book in time for someone finally almost stumbling into the tent.

Lara was surprised to see the Ambassador. And especially about the state she was in. Her hair was undone, her cheeks more rosy than usual and her eyes had a glassy sheen over them. When she stumbled closer, only to then gracefully sink down a bit too close to Lara’s side, it was hard not to notice the smell. The woman was under the influence of alcohol.

“Herald,” she started speaking, and it was almost impressive that her speech wasn’t slurred. Her accent seemed stronger, but that was it. So Lady Montilyet was not completely drunk, but also not sober. “I know this is an odd request, but may I braid your hair. Please?”

Lara blinked, slowly. Her hair was loose, as she had expected to sleep within the hour. “Why?”

“It is nice. A wonderful colour,” the Lady Montilyet said earnestly. “I always thought it seemed well taken care of.”

Lara waited, but … it seemed that was it? Maybe the Ambassador was higher on the scale towards drunk than she had thought. She also was not sure what to say. Was this something of significance? “Ah?”

The Ambassador pushed on, clearly not deterred by the monosyllabic answers. She even reached out, running the tips of Lara’s hair through her fingers. “I notice you braid it for battles. We have wonderful braids in Antiva. I have been thinking; they would fit you well. I braided my sisters’ hair a lot. They always asked for the most frivolous braids. I miss them.” She said the last part with a sigh.

That much Lara could imagine. The Valo-Kas had worked a lot in Antiva, for a time. Noble ladies and men prided themselves of exquisite hair styles. She had heard that the Queen wore a different hair style each day. Maybe this was a cultural thing then?

She would have turned this down a few weeks ago without hesitation, and possibly rightly so. It was dangerously exposing to give someone you didn’t trust access to your neck and the back of your head this much. But that was then. And now … Lara inclined her head. “If it pleases you, you may braid my hair as you see fit, Ambassador.”

It was almost uncomfortable to see the woman smile with delight at such a simple thing. “Truly? Oh, I have such a braid in mind.” She got to her knees and shimmied over to Lara’s back. All Lara could really do was to carefully hold still.

But Josephine was gentle. She brushed her hands through Lara’s hair a few times, nails scraping her scalp, pulling it back, before she started. “This is nice,” she said, after a moment.

Lara would have maybe nodded, but did not dare to move. It was indeed _nice_. Unexpectedly so.

“You really have soft hair. I used to want a lighter hair colour. And you have such pretty eyes. And you are so tall! And I noticed, you have very strong arms.”

Now Lara was glad that the Ambassador was at her back and she didn’t have to face her. The woman was indeed drunk, just masking it well. And Lara was at a loss for words here. This was a random assortment of compliments, not seemingly directed at a specific… _intention_. Nor was it the empty flattery a noble you worked for might bestow as a gesture, if they felt generous. “You are… very pretty, too, Lady Montilyet.”

“Call me Josephine, Herald. Oh, I meant to say, Adaar. I know you don’t like the title. I keep forgetting.” Lara wanted to say that it was fine, but the Ambassador spoke on. “Adaar is a pretty name. Does it mean something?”

Lara closed her eyes, trying to focus on the soft tugs on her scalp. The woman was a noble, braiding, making small talk, not a warrior or spy trying to question her or interrogate her. _Probably._ “Weapon.”

And at that, the tugging stopped, for a moment. “Oh,” the Ambassador said, softly, and it sounded … disappointed? “I mean, it suits you,” she spoke hastily. “It just sounds different in meaning.” Clearly a sentence that made sense to her.

They fell into silence as the ambassador picked up her braiding again. But not for long. “Everything about you is about fighting. Like a shell. Your name, your hair, your war paint. Your coat, too. It’s like a shell. It’s hard to work with.” Did the ambassador just… sigh? Somehow the mood had changed, from delight and compliments to something that seemed like disappointment and sorrow. “I could dress you in such fine silk garments, Adaar. I am sure you would look wonderful in red silk. You could match it with your war paint, if necessary.”

Lara decided not to point out that the poisonous Vitaar was not something to be worn in leisure time. A dress and that paint seemed rather absurd. So she settled for the next best thing to say. “I am not comfortable in dresses.”

“Truly, It’s a shame. You have such long legs.” The ambassador seemed to be done with the braid, and got up, to inspect her work. Now a smile returned to her face. She seemed pleased again. “As I thought. It suits you. I am glad. Thank you for permitting me this.”

“You are welcome?”

And just as she had come out of nowhere, the Ambassador just as simply turned and left. Lara remained seated, for a moment, and then got up to at least see if the woman would find her way back to her own tent safely. It had been quite hard to read exactly how inebriated she was, but likely it was too much to allow her to go unsupervised out into the snow.

As she stepped outside, however, she was relieved to see someone else already trailing after Lady Montilyet. Like a shadow, the Spymaster was strolling behind her, but glanced in Lara’s direction briefly. Had she been outside her tent, waiting for Lady Montilyet this whole time? A smile danced around her lips, and she pointed at her head and mouthed ‘pretty’. Lara, helplessly, shrugged.

She was ready to return inside when she noticed that the Ambassador wasn’t returning to her tent. She was heading towards a nearby firesite. Around which most of the Bull’s Chargers were gathered, along with some mages and foot soldiers. She could see that some of them were playing cards, and a few were dancing. Sera, for one, was doing a particularly crude dance.

Lara observed as Lady Montilyet said something to the Iron Bull and then went to sit between a dwarf and the dalish elf, who also had her hair in braids. And the beard of the dwarf had also been braided in a style very unlike a dwarf. It was … endearing. Lara caught herself smiling involuntarily.

They had had festivities like these. Small ones, informal ones. After a job well done, or when new members had joined them. Also before someone left. Not often, but enough that she recognized the feeling pulling her stomach into a tight knot.

But it was different than before. Because she knew without doubt that she would not be returning to them in the foreseeable future. She would not go back to being a mercenary. Even if they would appear before the Inquisition today, she would not leave with the Valo-Kas.

And that was a frightening thought.

It was hard to say how long she stood in front of her tent, in the darkness, observing them. Her eyes kept drifting to The Iron Bull. She realized that this was possibly the first time that she was watching him when he wasn’t aware of it or had been watching her first.

He seemed … different. In the middle of his people, drinking with them, laughing with his head thrown back. The Spymaster sat next to him, and she seemed to be beating him at their card game. But he was grinning, and relaxed. He kept hitting Krem on the back with a bit too much force whenever his second in Command had his keg to lips. Clearly not per coincident, and the scowl on his face told her that Krem knew. He elbowed the Bull shamelessly, which only garnered him bellowing laughter. The Iron Bull was clearly the Boss of these people, and in the middle of it, but at the same time … _not_. He was watching his people with obvious fondness on his face, watching over them. And it seemed less of a role than it normally seemed to her when she saw him like this.

Had she _ever_ seen him like this?

Had she ever seen him like a Captain of a Mercenary band and not like a Ben-Hassrath spy?

The contrast seemed stark, especially with the fresh memory of Varric’s words in her mind. Of the zeal with which he had described the invaders, and the foreign nature of their believes.

Truly, The Iron Bull was good at what he did. If she hadn’t known any better, seeing this, she would never have considered him of the Qun. Her own Chief had seemed more Qunari than the Iron Bull, many years after he had become Tal-Vashoth. Had the Valo-Kas ever encountered the Chargers, things might have been different. He she met _this _man instead …

But that was not who they were here. And it was a pointless thing to wonder about.

Lara turned on her heels and returned to her tent.

They had a long trek before them the next day, though Solas had promised they were close to this mysterious destination of his.

And there was nothing to do but drudge on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
I apologize for the delay in the update. Our country here is re-opening things, school among them, and i am now in that strange position of having some classes in school and some classes online. Which means i am non-stop working. I'll try to have new chapters every other week through. 
> 
> On that note, i hope y'all are keeping safe and still healthy. And i hope you enjoyed this break-chapter, as i have dubbed it. Lara's going soft on us, for at least one moment. We're almost at Skyhold, with a nightmare interlude in-between. Heavily debating with myself if i want to just skip the whole arrival scene or not, tbh. We'll see. But will be there will be a Vivienne scene, soon. I have managed Solas, I am almost ready to face Madame Le Fer.
> 
> PS: The stuff about the Queen of Antiva was made up entirely, but let's just say i've been in a Padme-funk recently and was inspired.


	23. Bas V

* * *

** _#23_ **

_He returned from the Beach in the middle of the night, a storm howling outside this hut he had claimed. _

_He returned alone._

_He shook them awake, lined them up. Only four of them left now._

_Blood on his hands, and tears in his flesh. So ‘fifth’ had struggled. _

_She wanted to close her eyes, wanted not to see. But he would not permit this._

_They had to know. What happened to them was on them now._

_So she stood still. Very still._

_He watched them. And then he stepped close to ‘first’. A knife was in his hands. _

_And then he started cutting the thread across ‘first’s’ lips. It took only a moment. Then he did the same to the rest of them. When he stepped before her, she held her breath._

_He grabbed the collar on her neck as he cut. It hurt, and she did not dare open her mouth. None of them did._

_He stepped back again, observing them. Waiting._

_When he spoke, it was slow. He did not speak often with them. “Asit tal-eb,” he said. She knew this. The first principle of the Qun, the order of things. “Repeat,” he order them._

_So they did. Her voice was barely audible. She had not heard it in so long. They could not say it properly without tongues and he frowned._

_“Anaan esamm Qun.” She knew this one, too. Her Tama had said this when her lips had first been sealed. ‘Victory is in the Qun.’_

_They echoed him again. _

_“Nehraa rethsaam aqun,” he said, and this one she only vaguely knew. It was an Arvaarad’s order to his charges to protect the balance of their society. The creed all Karataam were bound to._

_They echoed it, as well as they could, but he made them say it three times before he seemed satisfied._

_He nodded, more to himself than at them. “You will not be Bas. I will serve.”_

_He looked them over, and his face hardened a little. “You will _not_ become Bas.” Venom in his voice now. He grabbed the ends of their chains from where he had tied them to the wall in this hut. _

_He yanked at them to follow him, but his muttering was audible. “I will end you before you become Bas.”_

_A promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gents, sorry for the late update. I'll bring the next, real chapter tomorrow! Promise.
> 
> Also for thise who bother to read the nightmare bits, this was a throwback to a line in the nightmare of chapter 11. I am unraveling her past further.
> 
> Also, the Qunlat lines in the chapter mean what it says and are from canon. The only one I made up was "Nehraa rethsaam aqun", because I believe that a society like the Qunari would have rules for everything. And it sort of reflects how Sarebaas work in the Qun. Or it should, I most likely fucked up some grammar, but it should mean something along the lines of "For the changeless/the balance we protect "


	24. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of battles continued and swords to be raised.

_You don't have to sing it nice, but, honey, sing it strong  
At best, you find a little remedy, at worst the world will sing along_

* * *

_ **#24** _

Skyhold. That was the name of the place Solas had let them to, through her. He had been vague about the history of the place, when she had pressed him, speaking of walks in the fade and ancient dreams resting here.

The walls spoke of the same thing, as they approached, in their own way. But they spoke a language she preferred and she cared more to listen to; scars of old battles, overgrowth, but obviously unbroken. Whoever had built it had built the place well. She had seen few places like this, from what she could tell at their approach.

If nothing else, it was a fortress that was in a highly defensible position. It had exactly two points of entry – the main gate, and the sky it was supposedly named for. The sky was something to worry about, considering the dragon, but that was a worry for another time. Lara was, at the very least, pleased to see that there were towers that might be useful for that.

Upon their arrival, they had first settled the wounded and the weak. Then, per Leliana’s suggestion, Harding and a few of the Scouts were sent to look the place over, to create a map and to make sure no one else was here. They also had the important task of checking the foundation – how well would they be able to move into this? Was the roof liable to crash down on them? Were there Stairwells that would break?

Then they had settled people, and Josie arranged for a few helping hands to check in on everyone they had, gather requests. Cullen had his men help carry boxes to a soon discovered kitchen area, where Flissa made herself useful setting up things and taking stock.

For the first two days, that seemed all they had been capable off – taking stock, settling. The main building remained mostly unused yet, because it wasn’t deemed safe. Lara herself helped with a hands-on approach to get three of the towers and what they had guessed to be servants quarters into shape.

When she felt that most things seemed to be in capable hands by morning of their fifth day, Lara herself had slipped away, to inspect the main building. She had meant to question Solas further about this place, but he had conveniently disappeared almost immediately upon their arrival.

So she wandered Skyhold alone. She had set out from the kitchen and was progressing upwards, fingers trailing the stone wall as she went. It was quiet, and dusty, and dark. But it was not too damp, it was surprisingly not too cold. It seemed solid, so far. It would do well, for whatever was ahead of them.

The surprise came when she stepped into the main hall. Here there were wooden structures that had clearly come from destroyed furniture and the ceiling. But across it light in all colours of the rainbow danced light, from where the sun was shining through a window made of stained glass. For a moment, Lara stepped closer and stared up at the pattern that meant nothing to her and still made her feel … reverent.

Without any frilly decorations and much decorum, this place seemed to breathe dignity. And beyond the air, she could feel the closeness of the veil like she felt it in few places. It was humbling, and like a moth to the flame, she stepped further into the great hall, across the broken wood and stones under her boots, into the light.

The wood and stone cracked beneath her feet. And then there was another sound, feet on stone, like and echo, but not quite.

She whirled around on instinct when she realized that the sound was not made by her, and that it came from above on the lower side of the hall. For a moment, she saw nothing, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness again.

Lara felt herself go rigid when she recognized Madam the Fer on a balcony above, leaning against the railing, looking down to her. For a moment, both of them stared. They had not had talked to each other since their confrontation in Haven. And why should they?

Both had made their stance quite clear. There was no approval to be gained from the other, their perspectives on magic were fundamentally different. Frankly, Lara was surprised that the woman had not left them yet.

And yet, a smile appeared on the Lady’s face. One of those thin, sharp ones, like a razor’s blade. “Ah, my dear herald, enjoying your new fortress?”

“It is not mine,” Lara retorted. Even if spoken quiet, her words carried through the hall. She stepped out of the light, so she could see the woman better.

“Of course not.” Her words were laced with thinly veiled sarcasm. She gestured down to her. “But you seem pleased with it. Do you think you emerged from Haven as a victor, my dear? Are you not glad?”

Lara fought the urge to sigh. The woman was doing it again. The questions, the indirect statements. It was as if she was always trapped in a dance with the woman, and no one bothered to tell her the steps and she could not hear the music. 

“No one would call Haven a victory.”

“Oh?” Madam de Fer feigned surprise, leaned back, hand to her chest. “I am glad to hear you say that. At least we are in an agreement there. Haven was the latest disaster in a string of such. But acknowledging a mistake is a first important step of betterment, darling.”

And there it was. The slippery slope of calling Haven not-a-victory to seeming agreement that everything before that a mistake. And she knew fairly well at least one ‘mistake’ that the woman was laying at her feet. At least one thing she could address directly. “I will not go back on my word to the mages.”

“No, quite right, that would make the Inquisition look bad. And what’s done is done, tremendously bad choice that it was. But we shall have to make the best of it now. It is never too late to ensure that those foolish mages can receive some oversight and guidance and be brought back from the wild beasts that they have become.”

Lara scowled. How often had she had similar sentiments directed at her? Nobles that easily considered “oxpeople” barely above beasts. Calling a person a wild animal was a favoured insult of those who seemed to think themselves above others. She had little patience for people who could treat others as such. Especially in the case of this woman, who chose to call people who should be kin to her as such and was willing to step on them for her own privileges.

Lara had tried to simply walk away in a conflict with the woman before, and it had not helped. So she remained where she was, crossing her own arms. “You may think what you want on this matter. But stop talking to me of it.”

“Are you angry?” She had the nerve to sound surprised and amused. Or, possibly, delighted?

The woman was an enigma to Lara, but one that indeed annoyed her. And the thing that bothered her the most was that she was sure that Madame de Fer knew this. Lara narrowed her eyes. “Are you surprised?”

The Enchantress threw her head back and barked out a very short laugh. “Save this anger, my dear. You will need it. Especially if so easily gained. And here I thought a mercenary Qunari would have thicker skin.”

“You are misunderstanding me, woman,” Lara spoke, trying for an even voice. “Your words do not bother me for myself. Your words threaten an alliance of the Inquisition.”

“An alliance borne of oversight. And I had such hopes when we were in an agreement earlier." There it was again. The tone of voice where she, frankly, spoke down to her as if of lesser intelligence. "My dear, not speaking up is the same as agreeing. And I would be remiss not pointing this out. Someone needs to ensure that the person who made this decision can learn from her mistakes, so that we will not have a repetition of Haven.”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “You are wasting your words on a wild beast, Madam de Fer.”

The woman cocked her head, ever so slightly. “I take it you are counting yourself among the untrained? Believe me, I have noticed your own… shall we say, _unusual_ style. But I am quite sure that you are not entirely self-taught. You have at least three distinct schools of casting to your style, so even you would have to agree that there is some usefulness to oversight and mentoring.”

She heard a door being pushed open somewhere behind her, but could not be bothered to turn and look who else entered the hall. A repetition of the chantry in Haven. Last time, Mother Gisele had entered. And like last time, Lara lowered her voice. “If it comes with the freedom of choice.”

At this, Madam the Fer huffed, and turned, walking crisply towards the stairs of her balcony, which led her closer to Lara. “My god, you are naïve. And what of the freedom of the people that you have thrust these untrained mages upon? And how long will this last? How often, do you think, will people bear a demonic possession or a misdelivered spell before this freedom you talk of turns into a massacre? You buy their freedom with a promise of fear and suffering.”

“You speak as if locking people into towers had freed the rest of Thedas of fear. As if creating distance and alienation had fostered understanding. As if the price for earlier peace and ignorance had not been paid in suffering of plenty already,” Lara retorted, feeling the same anger well up in her as it had on their last conversation. She felt chains dragging down her neck that were not there. She clenched and unclenched her fists.“You aim to repeat mistakes instead of learning from them.”

“Yes, let us speak of learning, for a moment,” The breezy tone in the other woman had vanished entirely, turning into hot steel. “If you are so wilfully blind to reality, let us speak of the loss of talent and skill. The Circles were not a prison, they were a _chance _for young mages to safely learn how to handle their gifts. And we see now what kind of magic it breeds when they are not available.”

“Do you?” Lara couldn’t help it. The air around her cooled, and the ice gathered into crystals, hovering in the air around her. She drew her staff in one swift motion. “I would gladly offer a closer demonstration.”

“Snowflake, I am sorry to interrupt, but I have to ask,” another voice spoke up, from where she had heard the door earlier. Lara did not turn around to look at Varric, but she internally cursed herself for having gotten carried away.

But she remained rooted where she was, and she did not drop the ice hovering in the air around her. She kept staring up at the other mage, who was staring down to her.

She heard him step closer, though someone was with him. Heavier steps. Varric’s voice was amused, though it did not sound entirely honest. “First Dorian and now Madam de Fer? Have you tried to battle Solas, too? Is offering to battle mages, like, comparing notes or something?”

Lara did not look away from Madam de Fer when she replied. “No. It is a way to find out how I can more easily kill those people who I consider truly dangerous to me, should the need arise. And offering the same in return. If they can.”

To her surprise, this garnered her a short laugh from the woman on the balcony. And the woman relaxed her own stance. “Ah, my dear. You are capable of flattery and social niceties after all. There is hope for you yet. I shall take you up on the offer some other time, then.” And with that, and one nod, the woman turned, and walked out through the door.

And the moment she broke eye-contact, Lara pulled back the ice from the air, relaxing her own posture. She stared after the other woman, for a moment. Her retreat did not feel like victory, but Lara was doubtful there was any to be had here. Finally, she turned to look over her shoulder.

It was Varric, indeed. But it was also The Iron Bull. That was not who she had expected. Had Varric not been walking with an elven servant earlier? She had been sure of that.

Had she known who was with him, would she have interrupted this conversation earlier? Yes. Likely. The Iron Bull was dangerously perceptive, and she did not want to think what he had gleaned from her outburst. It was obvious from the way that he was staring at her, shoulders rolled back, arms crossed. There was something he was contemplating as he was staring at her now. Lara blamed the anger still in her veins, but she did not avoid eye-contact. She raised her chin slightly, daring him silently to speak his mind. She would be willing to bet what his own stance on the freedom of mages was.

But he said nothing, only stared back. And then, in a very universal gesture, raised both his hands. Surrender, before they even fought. Maybe for the better. There would be nothing to gain here either, most likely. So she looked to Varric.

And the dwarf smoothed over the chill in the air. “We were looking for you. Or, to be honest, the Seeker was looking for you in the courtyard and we agreed to see if we could send you there. Honestly, we just didn’t want to be given another task by her if we appeared too idle.”

Lara merely inclined her head, battle words still on her tongue. So it was safer to remain quiet. She turned, to make her way outside.

When she emerged from the doorway back to the courtyard, she indeed saw Cassandra with the Commander, Leliana and Josephine. The Seeker waved her over as the others disperse, with a nod. Lara trailed them with her eyes, as she walked over to the Seeker. Something was off. Why were they so hurried? “We have been looking for you.” And then, without waiting for a reaction, she nodded to a nearby campsite. “They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.”

Lara looked over the people. Fereldeners, simple folk. Hardly an issue with the space that Skyhold had, and it's reinforcement. Also not an issue that required _her_.Then, Cassandra started walking, and Lara followed, slowly, cataloging every movement out of the corner of her eyes. People were observing them, there were a few whispers. Had the Ambassador just sent these people in their direction?

And the Seeker, too, was off. These words were laid out carefully. “If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.” Reasonable thoughts, tactically sound, but also very pointlessly pointed out. What was she getting at?

They reached the end of their stairs, and Cassandra stopped, to turn to Lara. The posture of the woman was strange. Steeled shoulders, but the way she crossed her hands behind her back was too relaxed at the same time. “But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.”

Lara raised an eyebrow. ‘_Drew him to her_’? That was a very telling choice of words. She was not sure if she liked where this was going. “Ah?”

“Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven.” She walked on, before Lara could protest. “You are the creature’s rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us.”

'Rival'? Not exactly what Lara had suspected – feared – Cassandra was going to say. She had almost thought this would be a lecture of the type Mother Giselle had ‘bestowed’ on her. But instead, it sounded like a prepared speech, made for multitudes. Who, exactly, was this 'we' the Seeker was speaking off? 

When they stepped up the next flight of stairs, the Spymaster was waiting for them. With a … sword. Lara faltered, briefly. What were they setting up here? She turned her head, sharply, to the Seeker, eyes narrowed. When, in these past days, had they planned this? 

If the Seeker noticed Lara's less than kindly expression, she didn't show it. She stayed on her script. “The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it.” This carried an echo of Solas’ words. Was he behind this? Had he put them up to this? Lara couldn’t help but look around, but the bald elf was nowhere to be seen. Instead, what she saw were Josephine and the Commander, gathering a crowd. She could even see Cole linger closeby. Sera and the Warden, too. “You,” Cassandra added.

Lara fought the urge to frown. They had prepared this, had intentionally gathered an audience, had an ceremonial weapon ready and a speech for her benefit - because Cassandra had not spoken loud enough for the crowd they had gathered. _Why?_ Why had they chosen this? Were they so afraid of her refusing – or so sure that she would not? She would have preferred either without a crowd and theatrics. She had already agree to Solas – and herself – that she had to involve herself more. But this was … a lot.

She purposefully turned in a way that the crowd could not see her face. She tried to appeal to the woman's sense. “An oxwoman mage as the leader of this new force? Are you sure that this will inspire confidence? Is this a wise choice?”

Surprisingly, Cassandra seemed neither offended nor even slightly unsure. “All of these people have their lives because of you. They will follow.”

If it were that simple, the Nobles would treat their footsoldiers and mercenaries better. Because that was what she essentially still was here - her arm had become the weapon required for this battle. That was all. “And the many people that do not have their lives – equally because of me? You are the one who founded this venture, Cassandra. You are a human woman of their faith. I see not why you don't pick up this sword.”

In a way, it was baffling to see the Seeker so … hopeful and unbothered by her remarks.

“I am not the one the monster singled out, and I am not the one who brought us here. No, it has to be you, Adaar. I will not lie, handing this power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be.” She seemed as confident in this as she was in her maker. Or maybe that was the simple truth behind it – for her, this was all divine will. Down to the odd details.

Lara turned, slightly, to look at the sword, and beyond it to Leliana. The spymaster’s eyes were alight, but she remained silent. Almost stubbornly so, despite Lara's gaze.

“There would be no Inquisition without you,” Cassandra pressed on. “How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide.”

So her only choice here was _how_ – not _if?_

She remembered Solas’ words – that she had outgrown her role in this. He had been right. But she had underestimated what kind of growth he had alluded to. She could have accepted being one of their circle of advisors, but ... he had made her _lead_. She had already accepted it, without fully comprehending. And now it was too late to step back, whether she liked the decorum of it or not. 

She reached for the sword, stared at the ornamental golden dragon at the grip. Where had they dragged this from? She looked past it, at Leliana once more, and then to Cassandra. They were waiting for her to make a declaration of intent. Wasn’t that purpose clear already? 

So Lara nodded, slowly. “You have set us on a path already, Cassandra.”

The Seeker looked surprised.

“When you declared the Inquisition, you gave it its purpose. Nothing has changed. We will finish what we started. Corypheus has ripped the Sky open in an attempt to become a God. We have closed the Sky to our best abilities. We will now end Corypheus.”

For a moment, she swore she could see a faint smile on the Seeker’s lips, then a nod. “Wherever you lead us.” And then she stepped to her side, speaking up louder. “Have our people been told?”

Josephine stepped forward. “They have. And soon, the world.” Had they spoken this through? Had they… _recited_ this?

“Commander, will they follow? Will you fight? Will we triumph?”

These were mad people. She had underestimated these four, too, it seemed. In a way, it was ... impressive. Despite the fact that the dramatic gesture reminded her very much of a scene she had read in Varric's book.

The Commander riled up the crowd, refugees and soldiers alike. It was strange to see them shout to her like this. And then the Commander drew his sword, pointed to her. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your _Inquisitor_!”

More people followed suit, pulling swords, aiming staffs and fists – and cheering. For a moment, Lara stared back, and considered just walking away from these theatrics. But then she made out Dorian in the crowd. He winked at her. She swore she could pick out his voice in the crowd, shout an obscenity and - was he calling her a coward?

Fighting down a deep, deep sigh, Lara gave in. She tested the weight of the blade, before she twirled it and raised it over her head, towards the sun, with as much flair as she could muster.

She swore she could hear Leliana chuckle behind her.

And then, on a whim, Lara threw her head back, let out a war cry, and brought the blade down in one swift strike, releasing a feint blast of spirit magic to push through the crowd at the same time. For the briefest moment, silence followed, but then it edged the crowd on further. And Lara, briefly, allowed herself a very short grin towards Dorian, before she turned and walked off – finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, look. I didn't plan to write that scene. But Lara kept on walking and Cassandra kept talking and i couldn't find a smooth exit. So you got this. I considered for a hearty second to have Lara refuse the sword, tbh, because showman-ship is not her style, but i'll wreck the plot soon enough. No harm in giving you one more nice chapter before the angst.
> 
> Also, in case y'all are wondering what that earlier scene with Vivienne was that kept being mentioned, that was their first meeting as described in retrospect in chapter 12. You know, the one where Cullen outright tells her not to fight with the woman, because she dangerous. I heeded that advise. I avoided writing Vivienne even back there, so, yeah. For a reason, as you can probably see. I am aming for that wonderful sort of rivalry-friendship thing that they had going in DA2 and was sadly dropped. Though they are a long way from friendship here. Right now either is just very frustrated with the other.   
And for everyone ready to leap at Vivienne's defence: I like her character, okay. She is wonderfully written and executed. But she does, for a fact, refer to people as "wild beasts" and I do think that her perspective on what mages should and shouldn't do would clash horribly with Lara.


	25. Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A contuniation of a confrontation in the dark

_Her eyes and words are so icy  
Oh but she burns  
Like rum on a fire_

* * *

**#25**

For three days, she was ‘the Inquisitor’ now. Three days and nights and already she felt that new title added to her like a new weight.

Three days, in which they had settled a course of action between two major threats. In which it had been demanded of her to judge a person’s life. In which someone had suggested that they should try to rebuild the broken sections of the Fortress entirely. To surmise, Lara was tired.

And the stream of tasks and decisions placed before her did not seem to ease up. And in her state of exhaustion, she knew she was more vulnerable for the dreams she tried to repress. She had woken in cold sweat, from another nightmare.

She felt trapped in the room given to her and missed the nondescript, simple cavern in Haven. The grandiose room was alien, and placed in a way that made her uneasy. Looming above Skyhold, always in plain sight. She felt… exposed, too visible. A room with only one exit. Already the exposure of her new position had painted a glaring target on her. She did not enjoy this in her sleeping quarters.

When she had suggested to Josephine that she might prefer simpler, more grounded quarters, the Ambassador had absolutely refused. She had refered to the ability to place guards at her door, should it be necessary, but more than that it was about the appearance of this. And since the woman was close to working herself into the ground, Lara had been reluctant to insist.

So now she found herself wrapped in a thin coat, leaving the tower, to walk the battlements. These nightly walks were beginning to become a new habit, but a good one. It calmed her. So the fact that it was now raining wouldn’t stop her.

After a few minutes, she was absolutely trenched, but with the hood of the coat pulled low, the guards did not even bother looking at her. At this time of night, Skyhold seemed almost as deserted as upon their arrival.

Lara stared at the icy mountaintops beyond their walls, and closed her eyes briefly, to breath in the smell of rain and snow and night. No ashes, no salt.

She was far from there. She was … safe. From them. For now. Becoming the figure-head of the Inquisition made her a target, but if anything, the title might also obscure her further. She would hide behind it, like she had hidden behind so many different words and titles before. It was another role she would assume. She would be fine.

She would be. She would _have_ to be. Because if someone were to be looking for her, she had a trail now. And with more and more people flooding to this place, it would be so easy to come here unrecognized. Someone might be waiting for a chance to kill her in the sleeping quarters below as she was standing here. She could not know all of them. She just could not. She had to trust their own Spynetwork – had to trust the Spymaster and her craft. She had to trust the knife in her back.

It was no use. Not tonight.

When she opened her eyes and turned to walk back, a door to one of the towers was pushed open. Lara tensed up, lowering her head, ready to hide behind the hood and reaching up to pull it lower. She had not brought her staff, in her sleepdrunk haste and nightmare addled mind. She was a fool.

The figure emerging, slightly bent so as to not hit his head on the frame, was the Iron Bull.

Lara swallowed down a curse in Qunlat. He seemed not half as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Had he been waiting for her? Had he known she would come here? This was not her first night here. Had she become predictable?

Or was she just overreacting. This was the door leading out from the Tavern. He supposedly slept there. Maybe he just wanted fresh air. He was good at hiding his expressions – surprise might not even show on his face.

He crossed his arms. “Boss. Can’t sleep?”

With her hand at the hood, Lara paused. But there was no point of pretending, was there. So instead of pulling it lower, she pushed the hood back. “What’s it to you?” … why had she said that. Why was she always falling into the same traps of even bothering to engage him? Nevertheless, she narrowed her eyes at him.

Bull stared. There was that look again. “Ease up a little. It was just a question.”

“Right,” Lara said, hardly able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Just a Ben-Hassrath asking questions.” She turned away, ready to leave.

“You have these nightmares often?”

Lara froze, mid-turn. Her head whipped around. “What?” How did he know?

Bull was leaning against the wall of the battlement now, almost casual. He was watching her, but offering no reply.

She turned around fully taking a few steps towards him again, in order to make sure that their voices didn’t carry. She could deny, or try to, but he seemed too sure. He had learned of her weakness, the question was what he thought he knew. How much he knew. _How _he knew. “What do you mean,” less of a question, a clear demand in her voice.

Cole? Had Cole talked? She did not want to think it. She had grown fond of him. Had this been a mistake, on her part? Blinded? Too soft?

“_Bas_,” he said, slowly, each sound intoned very precise and dragged out.

Blood rushed through her ears. With a few steps, Lara was before him, shooting her arm out, hand at his throat, absolutely slamming his head back against the wall. To add insult to injury he didn’t even _flinch_. He didn’t even bother trying to stop her.

“Easy, Boss. I was just quoting you.” He sounded non-chalant, but the way his eyes were glued to her face, cataloguing every move of her muscle spoke to the calculation of his words.

She wanted to squeeze, wanted to tear out his throat, wanted to freeze the blood in his veins to make his vessel burst. Not yet, though. She needed to _know_ first.

She let go, but did not move an inch back. “Explain.”

To his minimal credit, he obliged. “After you collapsed near the camp. You had fever dreams. Of the nightmare sort.”

Dorian had mentioned something like that, hadn’t he? She had… she had not bothered to think of the implications of that.

Bull continued. “You weren’t completely there. Kept attacking the Vint when he tried to heal you. You were cursing at him, in Qunlat, and someone had to hold you down.” He shrugged, as if it was irrelevant what he was just revealing. “Guess they chose to fetch the only one in the camp who seemed able to hold you down, but the horns didn’t help _you_, ‘suppose. Kept confusing me for _someone_.”

After a mere moment, Lara stepped back. A good distance, trying to process. She could not remember any of what she had dreamed, after Cole – or the spirit that was in him – had pulled her back from that brink. What had she said? What had she revealed?

Fuck. _Fuck_. She felt her throat constrict, and focused to at least try and return to even breathing. _Don’t show it._

She was looking for a hint of something – anything – that could betray his thoughts to her. But his face was barely readable. He was clearly trying to seem relaxed, and the only thing that gave away that he wasn’t completely at ease was a small, barely noticeable twitch between his eyebrows. His gaze just a tad bit too serious.

“So what’s that about?” His voice was almost soft. Almost. “That word came up a lot. ‘_Bas_’.”

Was it an act? Was it pity? What was he angling for? Did he take her for a fool to be tricked by a mere change of inflection? She practically growled at him, but didn’t reply. She took another step back, trying to buy time.

“Look, maybe it helps getting it off your chest. I won’t judge,” he said. Was this supposed to be a joke? Was this a _joke_ to him?

God, she was so fucking tired of this. She lowered her head, brushing the rain and her soaked hair out of her face with a hand. She shook her head, just taking one more step back, but it was more of a stumble.

So what. So fucking what. If he had waited this long to kill her, then let him try. Let him have it.

“Okay, don’t wanna to talk? No problem. Then I will,” he said, voice still so unbelievably even. They could have been talking about the stars, or the rain, instead of her literal nightmares.

She didn’t even react when he made one step towards her. “Based on what you said and your reaction to the horns, it was one of ours who hunted you. Ben-Hassrath or an Arvaraad, maybe?” Lara refused to react, she refused to even look at him. She looked to the left, to the mountains. “So you are Tal-Vashoth. Part of those mercenaries. Red says you were pretty young when you joined. Not sure how that happened yet.”

So he and Leliana had been talking about her. She would tell the spymaster to stop that come morning. 

“How did you leave the Qun that young? Taken by some spies? Seperated from your Arvaraad in battle?” He stepped closer, and she was aware he was pushing it now. He was looking for a reaction. But she would not give it to him. She would not. “No? S’fine. Just curious about that ‘_Bas_’ thing. Wouldn’t have called you that before you left the Qun. So did they ever catch you? Torture you? Reeducate you?”

When she felt her face crumble, she turned away from him, facing the mountains fully now. She so wished she had her staff, if only to lean on it. She crossed her arms, but dropped them when she realized she was hugging herself. “Why do you care, Ben-Hassrath? Is that not the order of how the world is supposed to be?” She hated how tired she sounded. Too tired for pretense.

“Adaar,” He sounded like he was talking to a child. The patient angle. “Your past is your business. And I said it before – I am not here for that. ‘S not my job. If you keep expecting me to cleave open your skull whenever your back is turned, I can’t do my actual fucking job as your bodyguard.”

“True,” she said, evenly. “You can’t.”

A silence followed her words. And finally, a hint of annoyance in his voice when she spoke. “So? What are we gonna do about that?”

Only when she trusted herself to have a grip on her emotions again did she look to him. “Nothing. There is nothing to be done. You are Ben-Hassrath. I do not trust Ben-Hassrath. These are two truths of how the world is. I said it before. You will have to come to terms with you not fulfilling your purpose here.”

“You know, Boss, I am getting tired of that attitude,” he practically growled out.

“Then leave,” she shot back, without a second of hesitation.

“That’s the second time you say this. You sure you want that?” He stepped closer. He was less than an armlength away now.

This time, she did not take a step back, she tilted her head back to stare back at him. But all anger, all defiance had been washed out of her by the rain. “Stay or don’t. I don’t care, The Iron Bull.” And to a degree, it was true. Personally, she would love him to leave, but for the Inquisition? “The Chargers are useful. Your information might even be useful. But I cannot trust you. So _you_ are not. The concept is surely alien to one under the Qun, but it is your own damn choice what to do here. Just stay out of my way. ” She didn’t wait for his reaction. Pulling up her hood again, Lara left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, my dears. You probably guessed it, but work started up again and it's been absolutely brutal, to be frank. I am taking on a lot more than I normally do I right now and it's exhausting. The bad news is that this will not ease up for a while, so i have to hearby declade this story on a "mini-hiatus" until the end of July or possibly the beginning of August. I can't seem to get in the headspace to write like this. Should anything change at all about this I promise this story is the first thing i'll pick up. 
> 
> At the very least i leave you with a long overdue scene between Bull and Lara. I hinted at this in the chapter where Lara woke up and i was just dying to write this. It's not exactly moving forward yet, but Lara isn't absolutely ready for "fight or flight" near Bull anymore if he makes just one false move so that's a tiny improvement. Minor improvement to the Haven!confrontation, i guess. Bu the major change is mostly Bull's insight here. We'll see what he does with that in August.
> 
> Oh, and i'll go into this hiatus with another fun thing: You can probably guess that we have Hawke around the corner. I'll let you have a vote here: Marian, Garett or both?
> 
> As always, take care you guys! Be safe! I'll be re-reading all your wonderful comments until I return. <3


	26. Duplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which fact and fiction diverge somewhat, but the heart of the matter remains the same.

_I fled to the city with so much discounted_   
_Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now_

* * *

**#26 **

“… did you listen to me, Snowflake?” Varric paused in his steps, crossing his arms.

Lara had not. As Varric had led her past the stables, she had been distracted, staring up at the Rookery, where she had seen a flash of lavender near a window. Leliana.

Earlier, she had been told the Spymaster was not there. Business outside of Skyhold had called her away urgently. It was highly unlikely that she happened to return from said business within the quarter of an hour. So the reasonable conclusion was that this: Either someone else wore a shawl like hers or the Spymaster was avoiding her. Why?

“You know, if I bore you, we can do this another time. There’s clearly something on your mind,” Varric sounded amused rather than really annoyed. But the smile did not reach his eyes. There was something somber to him this morning.

His assessment of her was not wrong. The night before still lingered. And now the Spymaster’s avoidance begged the question if the confrontation had been something her and the Iron Bull had set up together. 

But Varric had made this early morning meeting seem rather urgent as well. His casual attitude now was mildly surprising. “I apologize. You said this meeting had to be set up in secret?” She walked on, and Varric fell in step with her as they climbed the stairs to the higher courtyard.

“Yeah. And the Seeker is going to be cross with me when she hears about it, so I would appreciate if you could take me with you when you leave for the Oasis tomorrow.”

Lara shot him a look.

Varric shrugged. “Look, Sparkler talked. Not my fault that he whines about the weather so much.”

“I see.” Lara nodded. She had planned to take Varric along either way, but there was no need to point that out right now. There was also no need to point out that the trip to the Oasis had been postponed precisely because of the weather. “So where is this person I am to meet?” They had reached the Requisitions Tower.

“Just up there,” Varric gestured up the stairs next to the tower, behind Herald’s Rest. He had climbed it half-way when he paused and turned to look at her. “Quick question – the Seeker gave you my book, right?”

“Which one?” Lara replied, drily. There was by now an ever-growing pile of books the Seeker kept dropping on her. At this point she was unsure what their purpose was. Hardly any of them seemed very historical or educational.

This, at least, made Varric grin. Then the grin tumbled off his face, and he brushed his palm against his forehead with a sigh. “Shit, she’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled, more to himself than her. When he lowered his hand, he specified “The Tale of the Champion.”

Right. She nodded. She had not finished it, but she was about half-way through now. Though she would refrain from pointing out that it was a far-from-enjoyable read for her. In the book, Hawke had just returned from the Deep Roads and Kirkwall was in a state of chaos. There was a lot of tension between the Qunari and the general populace at this point in the story and the Viscount had just told Hawke that the Arishok had requested to speak to him. Lara had had to put the book away, to brace herself for whatever was coming up.

“That’ll make this a bit easier. Maybe,” Varric said and then turned and continued his way up the stairs. Lara followed diligently. She was beginning to piece together his words now with his worry about the Seeker’s reaction – and found her suspicion somewhat confirmed when they reached the battlement. Two people were leaning against the wall, engaged in conversation.

Upon their approach, they turned. One of them, Lara vaguely recognized from description: startlingly blue eyes, a trimmed beard on a square jaw, a streak of red across the bridge of his nose and a somewhat crooked grin. Someone who looked like he was ready for battle and_ just_ out of a battle and on the run at the same time. Garrett Hawke, no doubt. She had to give Varric credit for the apt description.

The woman next to him had the same blue eyes and similar facial features overall, including the square jawline and prominent cheekbones. She had short black hair and was also at least one head shorter than him. They were undoubtedly closely related and she was leaning on a very plain looking staff. If this was Bethany, then Varric had missed the mark on her description. Nothing about her seemed soft, innocent or ‘sunshine’-like. In fact, the way she was seized up Lara right now was nothing short of predatory.

“Inquisitor, let me introduce you: The Champion of Kirkwall and his shadow,” Varric stepped between them, and made a vague gesture. Garrett grinned, the woman made mock-curtsey. “Otherwise known as Garrett and Marian Hawke.” Then he gestured towards her. “And you lot, meet the Inquisitor, _reluctant_ Herald of Andraste, Issalara Adaar.”

“Marian Hawke?” Lara raised an eyebrow at the woman. “You are more _alive_ than Master Thetras’ novel has led me to believe.” She remembered the gruesome death the elder Hawke Twin had - allegedly? – faced at the hand of an ogre for protecting their younger siblings while fleeing a Fereldan village.

“It was a good scene, wasn’t it? A very tragic opening for a novel. I make quite a dashing martyr,” Marian ran a hand through her hair, visibly pleased. “And I would have stolen everyone’s spotlight if I had been in the novel.”

“More like: ‘_Selling two apostate-mages as Heroes of Kirkwall after another mage in their party blew up the chantry would have been more difficult_.’ Or so my agent claims,” Varric interjected, with a sigh. “And I just couldn’t bring myself to cut Bethany. Marian is very much in there, still, though. Just look for the chapters where Hawke tries to pick a fight with people. Especially Templars. That’s her strong suit.”

“Excuse you?” The woman didn’t look as offended as she sounded.

“Has your hearing gone bad, Hawke?” Varric didn’t look as annoyed as he sounded, either.

“Varric mashed us up into one character, is what he’s saying.” Garrett Hawke spoke up now. “Some of it was to protect other people, mostly it was to protect Marian. Beth had turned herself in by the time the book was published, but my Twin here is very much still an Apostate on the run by the rules of the Chantry. So Varric took some liberties,” Garett added, arms crossed. “And I realize he may have done the same with you when he wrote to us about you.”

“Ah?” Lara tilted her head slightly. “I do not have a twin, as far as I am aware.”

“He was very vague about you as a person. For example, he left out this,” Garrett drew a circle above his head.

Lara tensed up. Her horns? The description of the Qunari in Kirkwall from Varric’s book flooded her. She glanced to the dwarf. When Varric seemed to avoid looking at her, Lara looked back up at both Hawkes, shifted her stance. “Will that be a problem?”

“Depends,” Marian replied, utterly chipper. But again, her gaze was too sharp. “First question: Do you want to subject the whole world to a fucked up philosophy about rules and purposes?”

Lara considered her reply. Then she drew her staff, and swung it towards Marian with a flourish. Her staff was met by the metal one the other woman had been leaning on in mid-air. Tension rung between them for a second. Varric cursed under his breath. Lara nodded towards where both staffs met and where their magic current had clashed.

“That would be no more in my interest than in yours.”

“Good,” Marian pulled her staff back, as did Lara.

Lara also noticed that Garrett had not moved even an inch. He had either been aware that she had not hit with full force, or he had had complete trusts in his sister’s ability. Lara filed that observation away for later. “What is the second question?”

“Are you seeing someone right now?”

Varric groaned. “Marian no.”

“Marian yes,” the woman shot back with a wink.

Lara blinked. She was not sure if this was a joke or not. She stared at the woman with a carefully blank expression.

Garrett laughed, but seemed surprised. “Aren’t you, and I quote, ‘over this whole dating people with ambitions’-thing?”

“Oh, I am,” Marian chirped back, putting one arm around her brother’s mid section, while looking at him with the expression of innocence. “I was asking for you. I saw you checking out those arms.”

“Don’t be rude, Marian,” Garrett shook his head, gesturing towards Lara. There was glint of humor in his eyes. “No one wants to be reduced to their arm muscles. She also has gorgeous eyes and hair. I am a connoisseur of people of all shapes and sizes and their fine features.”

“Oh, is that so, brother mine? You didn’t sound so appreciative when I tried to pawn you off to those pirates!”

“You’re both not helping here,” Varric finally turned to look to Lara again. “I’m sorry on both of their behalf.”

Lara turned away from their bickering, looking towards the courtyard. “Why are they here, exactly, Varric?”

“I told you. They kind of have fans - or are wanted people, depending on how you look at it.”

“No. I don’t mean _here_, I mean with the Inquisition.” Varric grimaced, and Lara chose to be more blunt. No beating about the bush. She had to make a decision here, and quickly. “If I recall correctly, when the Seeker wanted them to lead this venture, you denied knowing where they were. So why this change of heart.”

“Things… changed. That hole in the sky? They had nothing to do with it. But Corypheus? I figured they would have friendly advice about him. We fought him together.” Varric stepped up next to her, looking up at her. “It’s nothing personal. For what it’s worth, I don’t feel great about this situation. But the Champions of Kirkwall are here now, right?”

“We don’t use the title anymore, though. People tend to make a fuss about it,” Garrett said, also stepping up next to Marian. He extended a hand towards her. “So let’s do this over, shall we? I’m Garrett and it’s a pleasure meeting you, Issalara Adaar.”

Lara stared at the hand for a moment, in contemplation, then took it. “Likewise.”

“Nice view. And I don’t mean you, this time, for the record,” Marian spoke up, settling herself astride the wall, gesturing towards the fortress. “Makes you think about all the people depending on you, doesn’t it?” The woman sounded a lot less humorous this time.

“It does,” Lara said, again glancing towards the people below. Skyhold was just waking up. Soldiers had started a light training routine below.

“We heard of Haven. Corypheus dealt you a harsh blow,” Marian continued. “It’s a miracle that so many made it out of there alive.”

Miracle. She had heard this a lot these days. She balled her hands into fists.

“To be honest, when Varric wrote to us, I wasn’t sure if we should come. I am still not sure if we can really help much,” Garrett spoke up. He grinned lightly. “You’ve dropped a mountain on the bastard. Anything we could tell you pales in comparison.”

“I doubt it has stopped him,” Lara replied, shaking her head. “Anything you can share will be sorely needed.”

She tensed up when Hawke suddenly nudged his shoulder against hers. He was almost of her height, which was rare for humans. His blue eyes seemed to drill into hers. “Don’t be too critical of yourself here. You fixed the sky already – we weren’t even able to fix one city. You will be fine.”

When he sobered up like this she could almost see the Hero that Varric had described. And how he had charmed a whole city into believing in him. She almost felt like she could believe in the optimism of his words.

“That’s not to say we won’t help, of course. Glad to be useful again. How 'bout we grab a bite to eat and then compare stories?” Marian suggested, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. “We barely slept and I can’t battle-plan properly on an empty stomach.”

“Marian, you want to get to work right away? Look at you, making an effort. You should know, Inquisitor, her plans actually are semi-decent when she cares. Might be worth investing food,” Varric grinned.

Marian slid from her seated position and dramatically crossed her arms on-top of Varric’s head, using him as a … crutch? “Look at that, he loves me! What did I tell you, Garett? I _am_ his favourite.”

“I will ask someone to send food to my quarters,” Lara nodded. “We should not be disturbed there.”

“Already asking us to your bedroom? My, Inquisitor, you move quick,” Garrett grinned.

With that, the spell of his eyes was broken. Unimpressed, Lara turned and marched off along the battlements towards her room. She heard the other three following her, bickering over who of the four Hawke siblings exactly was Varric’s favourite. (”It’s Sunshine, there’s no competition. I don’t know why we’re having this debate again.”)

In passing, Lara glanced towards the Rookery, but this time there was no one at the windows. In hindsight - had Leliana avoided her this morning because the Iron Bull or maybe because of these new arrivals? Questioning Leliana would have to wait, it would seem. This would be a long day to be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! I am back. Very on-brand for 2020, my mini-hiatus of two months at the end of July has turned into a full-fledge break of four-and-a-half months. I am very sorry for that. And bless NaNoWriMo for helping me/ focring me to pick this up again - i started this thing in Nano last year, so that much is fitting as well. Aside from NaNo, though, I was also blatantly bribed/motivated by your lovely comments, a surprising bunch of kudos and a handful of new bookmarks. Thank you all! You made a few shitty months a lot less shitty and more bearable.
> 
> Also, random side-bar, one of the bookmarks made me guiltily change the rating from Teens-and-up to mature for violence reasons (past and future) and also add tags for "canon typical violence" (because most of what i described so far is no different than what canon has given us or is lifted from canon) and "past child abuse". These are for things in the story already, not necessarily for things ahead of us. (Though also for things ahead of us because I am writing this and who am I kidding? Angst is what i live for and Lara's past won't go away. She'll have to fess up about it at one point sooner rather than later.)
> 
> So, yeah. I hope y'all are fine with me going very rogue with my plans for the Hawkes. Canon is great, and all, but I refuse to do the whole tragedy of Hawke being basically alone. Bethany survived and is leading rebel mages, Carver joined the templars to protect his sibs and is still doing that, and Marian and Garette are twins and both alive. (Yes, Leandra is dead, but I can't save EVERYONE). You're welcome to guess the "colours" of Marian and Garett as this story progresses, btw ;) They're mixes.
> 
> So, that's that for now. I'll try and resume a schedule of updating every other week on the weekend, because weekly seems a bit risky at this point. I don't trust myself that much yet. So read you in two weeks! (Fingers crossed.)


	27. Resemblance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lara realises that she and Hawke have something in common.

_My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand_

_That's how I know now that you understand_

* * *

_#27_

There had been another letter from Herahrad . Lara was sitting on the upper stairs of Herald’s rest, close to where Cole was currently busy humming along to one of Maryden’s songs. Lara had borrowed one of his candles to read.

Varric had handed her the letter just a few hours ago, after they had talked things through with the Hawke Twins and had agreed on how to proceed. She had sent notes to all advisers that they would gather in the war room at dawn, to plan. And then she had all but dismissed them. Varric had reminded her that she still owed him two questions in exchange for this letter service to Antiva and told her to go somewhere else to read it, because as soon as the Commander, the Seeker and the Ambassador received her notes, she would have no peaceful minute left this night.

So she had heeded his advise and went along the Battlements at first, before coming here, where no one would be looking for her. Just seeing Herahrad’s handwriting – clumsy as it was – made her smile. Her brother wrote to her of their sister and her children. He had visited them after he had come back to Antiva for the first time in many years. He also wrote to her about the Valo-Kas. He had heard they had moved business to Orlais recently, which was very uncharacteristic for them. He thought she might be glad to hear that despite their losses, they were still operating.

And he had been right about this assumption. It felt good to hear of the people and the life she had had before all this. It wasn’t gone completely. Maybe one day there was something to go back to, even if not in the immediate future. The thought didn’t make her feel as hollow as it used to, though. She was no longer bound to this group of people by the tear in her palm. She was bound by the choices she made. It made all of this much easier to bear. And sometimes it was … almost pleasant.

Glancing past the stairs she was sitting on, leaning at just the right angle, she could see the tables on the second floor, and past that even to where Maryden was currently singing that song about Sera. For once, Sera didn’t seem too upset with it – she was, in fact, dancing to it. Her arms were linked with a very nimble Lace Harding and a grimacing Krem. If she leaned a bit forward, she could make out Dalish, Blackwall and Skinner stomping their feet to the beat. And the Iron Bull lifting a large tankard to his lips, to hide a content grin.

Lara leaned back again, and instead looked back to the second level and the table where Varric and one of the Hawkes were seated with Sutherland and his crew. With the commotion downstairs, and two Inquisition cape borrowed from the Barracks, the Champion of Kirkwall had managed not to draw a crowd yet. Though Marian was not with them, somehow.

Their voices carried up till here, and Garrett Hawke was in the middle of inspiring the young crew of would-be adventurers with a tale about their labors in Kirkwall. “…and that was when Isabella pulled the knife from her boot and pretended to be a Captain hiring a crew for her boat.” Garett laughed. “Say what you will, but she always was a quick thinker.”

“That, and she had a gift for subterfuge,” Varric agree. “She had these Tal-Vashoth convinced she was sailing for Par Volen without ever having been there.”

“To be fair, Fenris helped a lot there,” Garett offered up. “And these Fellas weren’t exactly bright thinkers.”

Lara tensed up a little and hated herself for it. It wasn’t a generalization; he wasn’t saying that all of _them_ were dim. She didn’t need to be offended on the behalf of a band of Tal-Vashoth.

“True. Not the brightest, but dangerous as hell. We wouldn’t have stood a chance against them with your injuries.” Varric managed to sound amused and accusatory at the same time.

“Really?” Sutherland sounded excited. “Even to you they were a threat? The book made it seem as if the Qunari were hardly a bother to you.”

“Well, some of them weren’t. The ones that were just didn’t make it into the book. To be fair, it would hardly have been in the interest of my readers to squeeze every little story in there.”

“Not to mention you were out of bolts for Bianca and quite sidelined for this one, hm? But yeah, believe me, don’t underestimate Tal-Vashoth. There were ten of them, whom Fenris and Isabelle might have been able to handle. But they had a leashed Sareebas. If they’d told him to, we would have been pulverized dust in the blink of an eye. Qunari mages are where it’s at.”

“I can imagine that,” the elf woman of Sutherland’s crew spoke up. ”The Lady Inquisitor is fearsome on the battlefield, too. Like an otherworldly being.” She added something in a lowered voice that Lara couldn’t make out but that Varric let out a loud laugh to.

Lara grimaced to herself. Ah, yes. The monster. The demon. Lara flinched when she noticed that Cole was suddenly crouching next to her. “She admires you. She does not think of monsters. She thinks beast, but it is different.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Lara sighed. She didn’t really feel like explaining to him why she was so bothered by this conversation. (_Weapon,_ a part of her mind sang. _Bas_, another whispered.)

Cole seemed to notice that his words hadn’t had the desired effect. He pushed on. “_‘I wish I had her fire. When she cries out on the battlefield, I shiver. Gets me more excited than what Don does in the bedroom sometimes.’_”

“Cole, stop,” Lara snapped, quietly, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Please. I don’t need to know.”

It probably hadn’t been too much of a secret, though. Because whatever the elf woman had said that had made Varric laugh, it made Hawke lean forward. “Yeah?” Garrett sounded intrigued. “So far all I’ve seen is really quiet and all proper and serious. Not exactly what I would call passionate, to be honest. Someone who absolutely needs help loosening up a bit, and not taking everything so hard. Say, Varric, doesn’t she remind you of someone?”

“Snowflake? I can honestly say I have no idea what you’re talking about, Champion. You don’t mean Fenris, do you?”

“What? No. Wait. Maybe? A bit? I clearly have a weakness for white hair and sullen looks. If she starts brooding I might seriously have to hit on her.”

“That’s very self-aware of you, Garrett. What happened to you and Fenris anyway?”

Lara leaned back, folded the letter and put it inside her chest bindings. She’d heard enough for the evening and this seemed a more personal conversation now. She remembered distinctly that Fenris had been the lover of Hawke in the book. Before she could rise, though, Cole pressed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down. Lara raised an eyebrow at him. He … disappeared. _Spirits know things. _Lara hesitated, but then leaned forward again, glancing down.

“Ah, long story. For another time, maybe. But back to the topic at hand - I feel like there’s a lot of Carver in there. Or what he could be, kind of?”

A silence followed. “You know, my first instinct is to say that’s unkind to both of them and I can’t really say why.”

Hawke laughed. “That’s a good sign. I should hope she’s smarter than him, and more capable of fighting, if she is leading this whole operation.”

“Garett, you and Marian measure him by impossible standards. Yourself, namely.”

“I think you are just too fond of him, Varric. You have a soft spot for him and Bethany,” Garett shot back.

“Guilty as charged,” Varric laughed. “And, you know, now that I think on it… I can kind of see some similarities between Carver and Adaar. It would make a lot of sense, considering I am also inexplicably fond of that one.”

“Yeah? Do tell.”

“They’re both somewhat repressed and try to mask their hotheadedness with a serious exterior. And I suspect you have to drag Snowflake from a fight she really believes in, like we had to do with Carver multiple times. But I am gonna go out on a limb here and say their differences are in the nuances. Snowflake is more guarded unlike Carver’s sometimes stuck up ways. And I have actually seen her make a few decent jokes.”

Well, that wasn’t all that flattering, but she would lie if she were to say that she didn’t see herself in at least part of it. She glanced around. Was that what Cole had wanted her to hear? A compliment?

“Oh, can I play too?” A female voice spoke up, suddenly. “I know two things on the top of my head that they don’t have in common.” Lara recognized the voice as that of Marian Hawke. When had she joined the table?

Marian didn’t wait for permission to push on. “One, Garett hopefully doesn’t make eyes at our brother. It was very distracting earlier. And second, our brother is much more sensitive. For example, he would have hit you by now for what you just said, whereas your Inquisitor has not let out a peep.”

There was a creaking, and when Lara glanced down, Marian was pointing with her thumb over her shoulder towards Lara. And all of the people at the table had leaned over and turned around to look towards where she was pointing.

Sutherland seemed scandalized to have been caught gossiping, Varric looked a bit chagrined, Garett Hawke… laughed. He got up from his chair, walking towards the stairs. “You were eavesdropping? I wouldn’t have expected that, Issalara.”

When had they moved to first-name basis? Did anyone here call her by her first name? Lara considered just getting up an leaving. But that seemed like admittance of wrong-doing. And like running away. “I’ve been sitting here and reading. You have been sitting there and talking. My hearing you was circumstantial and not intentional. If you do not wish to be heard, don’t speak publicly in a tavern.”

Garrett sauntered up the stairs. His eyes were fixed on hers. “And yet you could have spared me the embarrassment by just joining us.”

“You hardly seem embarrassed, Hawke,” Lara observed, dryly.

Garrett’s grin widened. He had now reached her, and sat down next to her. His proximity should bother her. Not that she felt she had to be too alarmed about him – he seemed to be one of the least likely people to be working for the Qun or intent on killing her. Which was oddly relieving in its own right. But she had never liked the proximity of strangers. And yet… it didn’t bother her.

“I should be, though, shouldn’t I? I bragged about my fighting all evening. And I said a few things about you that I am almost sure my mother said to never say to a lady.”

“I am not a lady.”

“Agree to disagree?” He winked.

She paused and frowned. He just stared back. Lara was unsure how to proceed. Then she settled for ignoring his interruption. “And you didn’t say them to me. I do not hold it against you.”

“Glad to hear it. We might have to get along for a while, until we’ve managed to dig up our Warden contact. Such a shame that your own Warden strangely has none of those.”

“Yes,” she said, keeping her thoughts on that matter to herself. She hardly knew Hawke, even if he was oddly good at making that seem irrelevant. Or maybe she just momentarily forgot about it, staring into his eyes.

“So what shall we do to pass the time, Issalara?”

There was an invitation in his words, if she was not mistaken. And she might be. It had been… a while, since such invitations had been made. She found herself tempted. Why was she this tempted by him? Was it just the relative safety of knowing he likely wasn’t here to kill her? Was that enough for her these days? Maybe so. Or maybe Varric had done him justice in his book, where every character seemed unreasonably smitten with him.

“You are an esteemed guest of the Inquisition. You are welcome to any diversion you can find.”

Garrett leaned forward and his voice was a little lower now. “Is that a promise?”

Lara ignored the pounding in her chest upon the proximity. “Do you doubt me?”

“Of course not. You have been nothing but courteous so far, Issalara. So then – will you spar with me? Champion against Inquisitor?”

Lara blinked. “Spar?”

Hawke laughed, but it was a low laugh – for himself, not for an audience, like his louder ones. “You seem surprised? After the praise by your recruits? Of course I want to see you in action. Varric mentioned you seem to like sparing with people.”

“I spared with other mages,” Lara corrected. Not that she was necessarily opposed. “But I am willing to make an exception.”

It was strange to see him light up at that. He was on his feet just a moment later. “Great, much obliged. So, how shall we do it, to even the playing field?”

Lara seized him up, for a moment, considering. He seemed … restless, she realized only now. A feeling she could relate to, in a way. She was used to being always on the move as well. “Right now?”

“Why, of course. We’ve been in your room most of the day, haven’t we. It would do us good to let off a bit of steam, wouldn’t you say?”

“It would also draw attention to your presence here.”

He made a gesture of dismissal. “I am not much one for secrecy. I like to be up-front about things. And to be frank, we won’t be able to keep that a secret for long if we stay here anyway. Marian is good at going unnoticed if she wants to, but I am really not. By tomorrow, everyone will know we’re here. So why not give them a bit of a show? And, while we’re at it, make sure that your people know that _you know_ we are here.”

Lara felt appreciation for his words. She could relate. Her personal feelings on the matter aside, though, his reasoning was sound. That, and she would frankly enjoy a spar. She missed the exercise with her fellow mercenaries. So, she rose from her seated position. “No magic. You are more skilled in direct combat than I am, but I am used to fighting with a staff. Bo-staffs shall be a good middle ground between our skill-sets. Does that sound fair?”

“Verily. And how about a little wager?”

This reminded her so much of the training sessions with the Valo-Kas. Lara smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

“The winner gets a request from the loser. Nothing impossible or dangerous, of course. Just a little fun something."

The suggestion seemed almost harmless. And also very typical among mercenary bands. She remembered that Varric had mentioned in his _Tale of the Champion_ that Hawke had worked for the Red Iron mercenaries of the Free Marches that Herahrad had worked for briefly, too. She looked him over, considering this new angle. Maybe there was more mercenary in him than she had previously realized.

“Deal,” Lara held out her hand to him. Garett took it, and squeezed it just a moment longer than necessary.

“Let’s go, then, shall we?”

“Yes. We shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, my dears! I hope the past two weeks have treated you kindly. I also hope you enjoy this little "filler arc", as I have decided to call it, where Lara is getting to know the Hawke Twinsies a little bit. The primary purpose of them is to amuse me and you and push of a slightly darker chapter that is waiting ahead (but we all need more light before I dive back into the regular angst, don't we?). NaNo is going surprisingly well, so i have the next few chapters mapped out very clearly. And, yeah. I expect chapter 30 or so will be a teeth-gnashing chapter for some of you. (What I am saying is, savour the filler with me, y'all. You have been warned.)
> 
> Also, I have been giving Scrivener a go and my god you guys. It has really helped with writing to be able to move scenes around amd have a research section. 
> 
> Final side note: "We meet at dawn, to plan" is a thinly-veiled reference to Critical Role Season 1. I raise a mug of ale to all who caught that.


	28. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two different sorts of people going blow for blow.

_Be the hopeful feeling when Eden was lost   
That's been deaf to our laughter since the master was crossed   
Which side of the wall really suffers that cost_

* * *

**#28**

A small crowd had gathered outside. It was dark already; a few recruits had been using the training field before them, so torches had been lit. Lara had asked two of them to lend her their training staffs, and they had complied hastily, clearing out the field. Now Garret was taking off his outer armor, handing it to his sister until he was only left in his leather pants and a black linen shirt.

Lara scanned the crowd as she stood waiting, taking in her surroundings. Initially it had only been Sutherland and his crew with Varric, Cole and Marian following them. But they had drawn out some other patrons of the Rest - the Chargers, Sera, Maryden and the Iron Bull, much to her annoyance.

Lara was surprised to now also see the Commander leaning against the fence next to Marian, who was chatting with him. She observed his expression, for a moment. Had he received her note? Or had he been around to train the recruits? Either way, there didn’t seem anger in his expression. She wondered what he thought about the arrival of their guests. He had been in Kirkwall at the time, hadn’t he?

But she had no time to focus on their audience. Garrett spoke up now, and it was clear to Lara from the way he held himself and raised his voice that this was more to pacify the crowd and more speaking to their audience than speaking to her. “So – Inquisitor against Champion. No Magic. No armor. And no killing, I think. First blood ends the fight. That fair?”

“Yes. I accept.”

Instantly, Garrett started moving - and Lara mirrored him. For almost half a minute, they were circling each other, observing, waiting. But there was no point in trying to read someone who was not fighting with their preferred weapon. Their eyes met. There was amusement in those blue eyes. He … winked. Lara raised one eyebrow. Almost at the exact same time, they charged forward.

Their staffs clashed loudly, and they twirled them, clashed again before they could even move far. Blow, by blow, by blow. Changing their grip, moving back a little, at it again a heartbeat later, now pushing back the other. For almost a whole minute none of their blows landed. They were surprisingly evenly matched in force, but Lara had no doubt that he would out pace her eventually. She had a better handling off the staff, he was holding it too much like a sword, but he was getting used to it quickly. She was used to drawing heat in battle and fighting physically _for a mage_, but he was used to much heavier weapon and gear. He was trained for endurance - she was not.

She had tried to make use of her slightly greater ranger, and begun to use the legwork more commonly associated with casting to parry some of his blows, and to site-step them, turn out of the way while simultaneously keeping him at bay, using his greater force against him. For a few minutes this seemed to work in conserving her energy and she landed the first blow against his shoulder this way. She could tell, though, that it was by chance. He was far from surprised and she remembered that two of his siblings were mages. He had seen variations of this before, and likely trained with them more than other warriors usually trained with mages.

Well, she had to be less predictable then. With her next twirl, she used the staff not to hit towards him, but instead to block with one end and pushed the other into the ground. Then she used the momentum to do a high kick towards his face. It came surprising enough that he had no chance to evade her, and her foot connected with his jaw with a satisfying crunch.

But it didn’t startle him enough – before she could react, he instinctively grabbed her ankle, twisted and pulled it. She almost dropped her staff trying to avoid a break and falling on her face, and it was only lucky that she was slightly taller than him. She managed to kick towards his groin while falling with her other foot, and he was forced to let go of the captured ankle to move out of range and protect his nether region.

She landed on her side and he didn’t hesitate to raise his staff and bring it down swiftly, though, aiming at her head. She pushed herself and rolled to the side avoid his strike and sweeping for his ankles with her own feet. When he yet again evaded her, he had forgotten about her staff, and she swept it upwards as an extension of her fist, past his shoulder in an uppercut that hit his jaw hard, the same spot she had kicked earlier. He stumbled backwards with a curse and she pulled the staff back, ramming the other end into the ground to pull herself up swiftly. She had barely found her footing when his retaliation followed with his own staff swung like a two-hander at her. She tried to sidestep him to evade it but was not quite fast enough and his staff grazed her shoulder and made her grit her teeth from the force of the blow. She felt her shirt tear.

She was within arm-range of him now and he made use of that, grabbing her neck and pulling her forward abruptly. For the fraction of a second they stared at each other, and she could tell that he was about to try and throw her to the ground and make her relinquish her staff. She had almost no means of escaping his grip. Almost. With a grin she pushed herself forward, angling her staff behind his heels. The push forward was strong enough to allow her to slip out of his grip, and with a cry she head-butted him. Hawke let out a strangled sound, as he stumbled backwards and lost his footing.

It turned out to be a strangled laugh. He laid on his back for a moment, just laughing. The bruise on his jaw was already visible, despite the beard. Lara allowed herself a grin as well, but not a pause. With her foot, she kicked away the staff he had let go off and aimed her own staff on his forehead.

Only now did Lara remember their audience. Maybe it would do better not to insist on drawing blood? “Concede,” she all but demanded.

Garrett grinned. He held up his hand, and for a moment, Lara thought he would indeed surrender. But then, with fast reflexes, he instead grabbed her staff and pulled it past his head.

Shit. She had allowed herself to be too sure of her advantage and to be surprised. She stumbled forward, refusing to let go off her staff, but it was exactly what he seemed to need. He made to kick for her stomach, and Lara growled. In a last ditch effort to keep herself out his reach she leaped across him, forced to let go off her staff. With outstretched arms her palms landed on either side of his head and then pushed herself off to land in a crouched position behind him.

This time he didn’t remain idle, and as she turned around, still crouched, he was crouched himself. He threw her staff at her with both hands. Lara just barely managed to let herself fall backwards to the ground to avoid it, but she anticipated his next move. When he threw himself towards her, her arms were already outstretched; she redirected his fist into the ground next to her head, pulling him forward by his right wrist. She planted one foot on his hip and managed to flip him while still holding unto his arm. His surprise gave her the fraction of a second she needed, destabilizing him enough to make him fall basically on top of her. With a quick move, she brought up her legs to loop over his shoulders and lock her feet on his chest, locking his arm in place. He was effectively chocked by his own arm and her thighs.

He tried to wrestle free, using his still free hand and legs to push up, but she allowed her back to sink to the ground, tightening her hold only further. He turned his head to look town to her, past her legs. They locked eyes. She was breathing heavily, and her hair and fallen from the careless bun she had put it in. He was far less out of breath. She would be able to hold him like this for a little while, at least, but not indefinitely. He could absolutely power out of this… from his expression, she knew that Hawke was aware of it as well.

Which made his next move rather startling. He tapped her outer thigh. “Fine, I concede. You win.”

Lara was feeling almost a little bit disappointed. A little bit. She unhooked her legs and let him go. Both remained seated in the dirt for just a heartbeat longer.

Garrett grinned at her. “You’re a handful, Isallara. I like it.”

Lara smiled. Briefly. “Likewise.”

They got up from the ground, dusting themselves off. This was when their audience realized the fight was over, and some started clapping or calling out a few choice words to them. Either way, the spell of concentration was broken.

Lara realized she had almost forgotten about their audience. She looked over to where Marian was, briefly, who was giving her the thumbs up with a toothy grin. Some had bet on the fight, too, she gathered from Krem’s smug expression when people started handing him money. The Commander among them, as well, and when he noticed Lara looking at him, he blushed.

Her attention snapped back to Garrett when he spoke up. “You know, you fight a mighty bit different than most other mages. Marian excluded, maybe.”

“We were likely trained very differently.” Lara bent to pick up their staffs and waved over the recruit to hand them to him, with a short nod.

They walked back out of the training ring, Lara brushed the light beads of sweat from her forehead.

Garrett stuck close by. “Is that so? How _were_ you trained, exactly?”

Lara thought about _him_. About Antiva. “… that is difficult to explain. I was trained not to rely on magic.”

“Yeah? Were you an apostate?”

_Chains and shackles and salt on her tongue._ “Something of the sort.”

“Well, it clearly didn’t hurt. You’re a force to be reckoned with.” That smile of his and his blue eyes absolutely were also forces to be reckoned with.

Before she could reply, someone cleared his throat behind them. “Hey, Boss.”

Lara froze, tensed up. When she looked over her shoulder at the Iron Bull, she was scowling. Had she not just told him to stay out of her way? And here he was again, a mere day later.

He ignored the expression on her face, though. He pointed at the forge. “You might wanna check up on Varric. The Seeker basically just dragged him in there. From the looks of it, to murder him.”

Garrett muttered something under his breath, Lara stared at the Iron Bull just a heartbeat longer. Then, wordlessly, she pushed passed him. Garrett was trailing after her, gesturing towards Marian to follow them. The other Hawke twin stopped her pestering of the Commander, shoved her brother’s armor into his arms and moved to follow them immediately.

When Lara entered the building, she heard the commotion upstairs, and then she heard Cassandra. “You knew all along where Hawke was.”

She turned around, gestured at the twins to wait. Marian shook her head, vehemently, but her brother grabbed her arm and held her back, nodding to Lara. He held up two fingers, mouthing to her. ‘Two minutes’. She nodded back and moved towards the stairs.

“You’re damned right I did.” Varric sounded downright defiant.

Lara hurried to climb the stairs, heard Cassandra’s cursing. “You conniving little shit!” She saw Varric dive through under her arm and around a table.

“You kidnapped me, interrogated me! What did you expect?”

He didn’t seem ready to back down, and the Seeker wouldn’t either. She looked ready to jump across the table and straight at the dwarf’s throat. And down below Lara was sure that at least one of the twins would act in a moment if she didn’t. So Lara stepped between them, slapping one hand on the table and raising the other towards Cassandra, growling. “Enough. This is unbecoming.”

This made the Seeker even more angry, if anything. She was scowling at her. “You’re taking _his_ side?”

“This is not about sides,” Lara shot back. “We’re all on one side, aren’t we?”

“Well, tell that to him!” Cassandra stepped closer towards Lara. Her voice was quieter, but the anger hadn’t vanished. “We needed someone to lead the Inquisition. First, Leliana and I looked for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished.” She looked at Varric now, instead of Lara, who had moved to keep more of the table between them. There was disgust and disappointment on her face. “ Then, we looked for Hawke, but he was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no. It was just _you_.” She spat the last word out. “You kept him from us. You kept _both_ Hawkes from us. ”

What were the twins thinking of this? Lara glanced towards the stairs. She would swear she heard them creak.

“The Inquisition _has_ a leader.” Varric scowled right back. He moved closer again, and Lara made sure to remain positioned between them. It was a strange thought, but Varric was more hurt by this than she had expected. Hadn’t he seemed resigned to her anger yesterday?

Cassandra was a different matter, though. There was righteous fury there, and clearly a sense of betrayal. “Hawke would have been at the conclave! If anyone could have saved Most Holy …” She balled her fist, and hit the table.

_Ah. Grief. _So that was driving her. But what was pushing Varric?

He spoke up, not less passionate “I was protecting my friend! You people have done enough to him - to them both.”

Apparently, the anger in his voice was the last straw. Lara heard the creak, and the slam when Marian propelled herself upwards the stairs, flinging herself across the rail and hitting the floor next to Varric and practically draping herself across his shoulders, a hard and piercing stare directed at Cassandra.

“Hey now, Varric, what’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying we are damaged somehow? Aren’t we fine specimen?” Her smile now was showing entirely too many teeth.

Varric glanced at her, clearly startled. “Shit, Marian. What are you …?”

“We look out for our favorite dwarf, like he does for us.” Garrett strolled the stairs up, rubbing his jawline. He stayed near the stairs though, shooting Lara an apologetic look. Lara squinted at him. Had his sister actually hit him?

Then he looked past her, to Cassandra, who seemed for the moment a bit distracted by having the Champion of Kirkwall and his twin interrupt this little talk. Garrett undoubtedly noticed and tried to use the fact that they had interrupted her momentum to his favor. He held up both hands. “Seeker, if I may? Your high opinion of us is flattering, but honestly - if we had been there, we likely wouldn’t have been able to save Most Holy either. We weren’t able to stop the explosion in Kirkwall, we wouldn’t have stopped this one either.”

Marian snorted. “Not to mention - even _if_ Varric had reached us - I am not sure we would have come running to that meeting between templars and mages. We don’t have the best track record with that, do we, Varric?”

“No. And you don’t owe them anything,” Varric replied, downright bitter. “If you had been at the temple, you’d be dead, too.”

Where Garrett’s words had given her pause, Marian’s words had the opposite effect and by Varric’s words Cassandra had the scowl right back up. She made a step forward, in Varric’s direction, but Lara stepped directly between them, staring Cassandra down. The Seeker wasn’t pleased. “This doesn’t change anything. Varric is a _liar_, Adaar. A snake. Even after the Conclave, when we could have used their help, Varric kept both Hawkes secret.” She avoided looking at either of them.

“They’re here now, aren’t they? We’re on the same side,” it sounded almost like Varric was pleading now.

“Are we, though?” Marian muttered, audibly.

“Marian,” Garrett said, in a warning tone of voice.

“What? I’m just saying. She doesn’t act like it. Frankly, I wonder why Varric is still wasting his time here. We could be pirating with Isabelle now. This is none of our or his business,” Marian was not to be deterred. Like a … Fereldan war dog with a bone, as it were.

But something in her hostility clicked, apparently. Cassandra made a few steps backwards. Her loud anger had made way for quiet seething and disgust. “No, she’s right. I am not sure we are on the same side, either. We all know whose side you’re on, Varric. It will never be the Inquisiton’s.”

“Enough,” Lara interjected sharply. She intentionally gathered enough magic around her to cool the air down to an uncomfortable level. “This is not you. You are blinded by you anger. Varric has done his part in the Inquisition voluntarily. You know this. Do not be unjust now.”

“_Thank_ you,” Varric muttered.

Cassandra held Lara’s gaze for a moment, then she turned away, and finally she, too, sounded more tired than angry. “I must not think of what could have been. We have so much at stake. Go, Varric. Just … go, all of you.”

“Gladly,” Marian pulled herself up, sauntering towards the stairs. Varric followed Marian, but he had his head hanging. Garrett paused at the stairs, looking at Lara, questioningly. She shook her head slightly, gesturing towards Cassandra. Garrett nodded in understanding and trailed after the other two.

When they heard the door shut, Cassandra turned around, and was for a moment visibly surprised to find Lara still lingering. “You’re still here.”

Lara nodded. Then, she walked over to the table, and sat down, slowly. “I am.” And then she waited.

Cassandra hesitated visibly. Then it burst out of her. “I _believed_ him.” She looked bitter, stepping closer to the table, running a hand across her face. “He spun his story for me and I swallowed it. If I’d just explained what was at stake… If I’d just made him understand…”. She sighed. And then she pulled out the chair at the opposite end of the table and sat down. “But I didn’t, did I? I didn’t explain why we needed Hawke. I’m such a fool.” She burried her face in her hands.

Lara frowned, slightly. “A fool for what, exactly?”

When Cassandra looked up again, the desperation was back. “I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter. I don’t deserve to be here.”

“I repeat my question, Seeker. A fool for what?”

This clearly wasn’t the reply that Cassandra had expected. “What?”

Lara leaned forward, brushing back her still tussled hair with one hand so it didn’t fall into her eyes. She did not enjoy making speeches, but this one was necessary. Even Ralshokra had seen the value in the occasional speech to their group. “I fail to see foolishness in trying your best in an impossible situation or in exploring all ventures to the best of your abilities. In a war, not every battle can be won. Especially not if you stand alone against impossible odds. We made it this far, even if it was not the outcome you desired at first, mostly because of your refusal to cave. If that is foolishness, then we are all fools here, Seeker. Varric included. And I will gladly further pursue this foolishness by both of your sides.”

For a full moment, Cassandra stared back. Lara was torn between feeling amusement, at having rendered the Seeker speechless, and uncomfortable in the stretching silence.

Then the Seeker suddenly sat up a little taller, with a serious expression on her face. “I feel the same. I want you to know, I have no regrets. Maybe if we’d found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn’t have needed to send you. But he did. And I am grateful.”

Lara fought down the urge to sigh. The Maker again. Spirits help her.

“You’re… not what I’d pictured, I will admit that. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I know less than nothing.”

Lara rose from her chair, with a half-smile. “And there, too, you are in good company, Cassandra.”

Cassandra’s reply was a voice of dismay at the back of her throat. “I do not find that terribly reassuring, considering our position, Inquisitor.”

“I am sorry to say you will have to live with it. After all, you put both of us here. And we will likely continue to fall short. But fail better, each time, I hope,” Lara tilted her head, slightly. And then held her hand out to the Seeker. The woman grabbed it, and allowed herself to be pulled up. Cassandra headed for the stairs first, and Lara followed, and almost walked into Cassandra when the woman froze at the end of the stairs.

Next to one of the two doors leading out of the building was Garrett, leaning against the wall. He looked at them with a very calm, expression. He was seemingly not ashamed of having been caught listening in on them. But Cassandra was clearly rather embarrassed by it. Lara remembered how the Seeker had expressed admiration for the Champion in the past. There was even a hint of a blush when she opened and closed her mouth again instantly. But instead of saying something, she rushed down the rest of the stairs and just out through the closest door.

Lara looked after her, contemplating following her. She had hoped to persuade Cassandra to seek out Varric immediately and fix this. She was not in favour of long lingering conflict between members of a group. But Garrett spoke up before she could make up her mind.

“This got intense, huh? The Seeker is an interesting person, for sure. Varric wasn’t wrong about her in his letters.”

“She is,” Lara said, simply, not offering up anything else. He could come to his own conclusions in his interactions. She suspected that was why he had stayed - to hear how this would carry on, hearing what they would exchange on the topic among themselves. The question was only if he had done so to gain more insight on Cassandra or if it had been to gain insight on her.

“I need to apologize for Marian. She wouldn’t let herself be held back. She is… let’s just say she is defensive when it comes to Varric,” he rubbed his neck at the later part of his sentence, with an apologetic smile. There was something strangely charming about the whole gesture. But there also was something about it that made her think he was aware of that fact.

“Ah,” she said, careful not to express an opinion on this matter. Whatever he was looking for from her here, he would not receive it. She would not take sides in a conflict she aimed to have resolved as soon as possible. “Where is he?”

“I think he wanted to be alone, but Marian dragged him to the Tavern. She firmly believes in drowning grievances. ”

Lara nodded. She could imagine this. She weighted her options, looking over to the door through which Cassandra had disappeared.

Again, before she could make up her mind, he spoke up again, quietly. “I know you won the spar and thereby the request, but if I could make one? Leave them be, for now. Give them a bit. Marian will not listen right now, but your Seeker is not a bad person, and Varric knows it, too. He likes her, I can tell. Otherwise he wouldn’t be feeling so guilty over this. Let him wallow a bit, let Marian give him some reassurance and then I’ll help you sort it out in the morning.”

Lara considered this. Maybe he was right in wanting to give them some time and space. It was not her usual way, but she also didn’t want to alienate his sister by pushing in now. It had been very clear that there was a possessiveness to her handling of Varric. 

So Lara nodded, with a sigh, running one hand through her hair. “Very well. I will talk to him tomorrow. He was meant to accompany me on a mission either way. ”

Garrett smiled. It was different from his grin. “Thank you.”

Lara shrugged it off and headed for the door Hawke was next to and was not surprised when Garrett instead opened the door for her and fell in step with her.

“Say, Issalara, about that victory of yours. Your request. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Hm?” She walked on, waiting for him to continue.

“How about I give you a few suggestions on how to better guard your sides over a bit of wine. And I’ll tell you as many embarrassing secrets as you want, to lord over Varric.”

Lara raised an eyebrow at him. “The loser of the spar offering advice to the winner. You are a curious one, Hawke.”

He seemed unfathomed. “Oh, yes, of course. You won fair and square and now no one in the Inquisition has any reason to worry about the role my sister and I could have in it. They already got the best one. I am just offering it from one merc to another.”

The subtext was clear. _As one merc who knew he could have won to another merc, who also knew he could have won_. So she had been right in that thought earlier.

Garrett Hawke was becoming more interesting by the minute. Lara nodded. “Very well. I do have a few questions about Kirkwall.”

“And it will be my pleasure to share all its dirty little secrets with you, Lady Inquisitor.”

There. He winked again. And despite her stare, he moved closer, snaking one arm around her waist.

Lara frowned, slightly. He was confident in many different ways, astonishingly so. She had a sudden thought. “Have you been to our library yet, Hawke?”

That seemed to manage to throw him off. “Can’t say that I have?”

Lara nodded to herself. “We shall drink and talk there. I would like to introduce you to someone.”

_Those two _should either get along wonderfully or hate each other’s guts, she just realized.

That and she needed reinforcement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears! So, there you go. A whole chapter of people roughing each other up and more Hawke!Time :) That's also why it is almost twice as long as my normal chapters. Whoopsie?
> 
> While i still don't think writing fighting scene is my forte, i did enjoy writing this one. I watched a lot of judo videos for it (the hold Lara does in the end is called Bow-and-Arrow-Hold that i thought looked VERY cool), and was very inspired by that short Bo-Staff-Fight in Pacific Rim.  
Also, Garrett Hawke is a charming bastard and Marian Hawke is a feral child. Just in case that wasn't clear enough. And while we're talking about them, I am so very, very happy that you guys enjoy them. Seriously, this made my entire month. Canon divergence for the win, y'all! 
> 
> Next up: more friend time ;) Also ally-time, which is unexpected to myself but some dude snuck into the next chapter unexpectedly. Also, out of curiosity, who would you guys like to see as a warden contact? I admit i have it written out already, but you're all smart and wonderful people and I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> As always - thank you guys so much for your comments. I was quite overwhelmed by length and loveliness this week <3
> 
> Fun fact on the side: When i outlined what i had planned for this chapter to a friend, she insisted that Cullen should be thinking "That's hot" on the sidelines. In case you were wondering about the blush. I had to give this to her, she is wrestling a lot of angst i want to put in away from you guys.


	29. Untangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are matters of principle to be discussed and many uncomfortable topics to be unraveled.
> 
> (Just in case y'all need to be forewarned, there is sort of an coming-out-situation here. It goes well, all is fine, bit in case that is not something you need to read at the moment, maybe go and drink some nice hot beverage instead. And feel hugged.)

_No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony  
No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me_

* * *

**#29**

When she returned from the oasis, two days later, her first impulse had been to return to her room and not emerge from it for a a few days. She was tired, she could feel the sweat and crusted blood on her skin, her horns were itching and she was anxious for any news of the contact both Hawkes had promised to reach out to.

However, on her way there, she had heard bickering of familiar voices from the library, and, considering the tense situation she had left Skyhold in, she decided to take a quick detour to check. The bickering turned out to be Dorian, leaning against the railing of the upper level of the rotunda, engaged in a quite _lively _discussion about magic in Tevinter with Solas, who was sitting in his armchair below. As soon as she entered, their conversation halted, only for Dorian to let out a string of curses she interpreted as Tevene expressions for shock or disgust. He disappeared from his position.

“What happened?” Solas inquired mildy, and Lara wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or concern that caused him to get up, too, and look her over.

Lara shrugged. “We encountered a giant. ”

“Ah,” Solas said, as if that explained everything.

It did do the trick for Dorian, though, who came in rushing through the door now. He was at her side in long, purposeful strides, and reached for the arm she had ‘wrapped’ in Ice to numb the pain. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Adaar.” He sounded personally offended.

Lara managed an awkward shrug, and then winced. “The bone splintered. I couldn’t set or heal it myself. We had to get on with it.”

Dorian looked mildly horrified. “And no one objected to this idea? Unfreeze that arm at once! That’s what you get for leaving me behind.”

Lara did pull back her magic, allowing the ice to fade. “You were needed here.”

And it was true. Dorian had started reaching out to his contacts in Tevinter for information on Corypheus and his origins, and the letters didn’t write themselves. Especially not ones to distrustful members of the Magisterium who would not consider replying to an outsider. Solas had also offered to come along, but he, too, was needed here; Skyhold was still in states of repair, and his knowledge of the place from his travels in the Fade had become invaluable for the reconstruction process. A lot of the ancient stone work wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed, as magic was part of the material itself. And since Madame de Fer was not particularly keen on “traipsing around in old ruins”, and Lara wasn’t keen on the woman altogether, that meant she had declined to take along other magical aide.

It just so happened that on the one expedition she did get more seriously hurt, she had indeed no one in a position to help around. She had had promised to take Varric along, which meant that she had had to leave Cassandra in Skyhold, who was decent at setting bones. Blackwall had asked to be left behind should Hawke indeed reach one of their Warden contacts. So, in need of a Warrior, she had begrudgingly agreed to take the Iron Bull along - whom she would not let fix her hair, let alone bones. And as soon as she had resigned herself to taking the Iron Bull along, Cole had popped up on her side and basically not left her at all, constantly trying to ease her with sentences that really had rather put her more on edge, and even been mildly distracting.

That was, partially, how it had happened. The Oasis had unsettled Cole somehow, despite the fact that they had only managed to get behind that first closed door. Once inside, however, Cole had started to mumble erratically, flickering about the place with distant stares. Her fondness for the spirit boy had made her decide that they should best leave the place and bring him back to Skyhold. On their way back through the Emerald Graves in the early hours of this morning, his behaviour had only barely settled somewhat.

When the Giant had attacked them, half of her mind had been occupied with keeping track of Cole, and then she made the beginner’s mistake of underestimating the enemy. The club of the giant had hit her and thrown her in the air, only for her to hit a rock formation with her full body force on her awkwardly positioned elbow, and no chance to soften the blow. Luckily, the pain had firmly drawn her attention back to the fight and she had opened up a smaller rift right under the giant’s ass. This, together with a plethora of lightning strikes and a few well-placed strikes by the Iron Bull’s axe had done the trick to literally pull the feet out from under the giant. After that, it had been a matter of minutes for the fight to be over. 

However, it had still been the better part a whole day of riding back here. So she had done what she could - and exhausted and depleted of magic, it had really not been much. Freezing arm in a thin coat of ice had seemed like a sensible option of just preserving it in the state it was, preventing infection and lessening the pain. Any damage the ice did could not have been worse than the state the arm had already been in.

She relayed the barest summary of this when Dorian, again, asked how this had happened, as he started working on her arm before any feeling could return to it. At one point, Solas got up, gesturing for her to sit in his armchair and grabbing a stool for Dorian. He then left to go to their herbalist and gather a few plants he needed to make a numbing balm. Even after Dorian would be done fixing this mess, her arm would likely continue to hurt.

“Adaar, swear to me that you will learn some basic healing magic before you head out without either me or Solas again. You’re being obtuse.”

“I know basics. This would not have helped here.”

Dorian growled at her. “It would have helped more than just freezing it. You could have caused lasting damage with that ice!”

They had had an argument like this before and right now, Lara did not feel up for another round of it. So she chose to distract him. “Did anything get damaged here while I was gone?”

Dorian glanced up, before he resumed his focus on her arm, knitting together the pieces of bone he could find. “Are you asking about anything or anyone specific? Is this about Sera?”

Now she blinked, tilted her head. This had not at all been what she had meant. She had been wondering about the Seeker and Marian. This was … unexpected. “Why?”

“Oh, she has taken her pranks to a new level. I heard she had wanted to go along and you told her no? She might not handle rejection well, I dare say.”

Lara sighed. She had forgotten about this. “I see.”

Dorian paused, briefly. “Is there … a particular reason you reject her? I think it’s not the first time she wasn’t allowed to come with you to a mission.”

He had managed to find another uncomfortable topic somehow. She shook her head. “It was impractical for the mission.”

This resulted in a snort. “Are you trying to tell me you are _not_ avoiding her? Do you think me daft, Adaar?”

“No,” Lara grimaced. Dorian was one of the few people she allowed to see her honest reactions. So she conceded. “I… you are not wrong.”

This caused Dorian to pause in his work, look at her. “So. Do tell, dear Inquisitor. Why _do_ you avoid her? I mean, let’s not beat about the bush here: everyone can tell she has a bit of a crush, Adaar. The woman is crassly vocal about it. Is that why? Does a girl having a crush on you make you uncomfortable? Not a fan?” There was something in his look Lara couldn’t quite place. He seemed to care more about Sera’s feelings than she would have expected.

Lara frowned. There was something she wanted to know in that regard as well, but … She considered her reply, looking upwards, to the rookery. She would rather not have had this conversation here, so vulnerable with surely more ears and eyes on them than she was even aware of, but she would have to take that risk. With her healthy“No. Her interest in women is of no consequence to me, Dorian. People may lay their affections where _they_ please, not anyone else. It is rather her… fixation on _them_.” And with her free hand, she pointed at the horns.

“Oh,” Dorian sounded intrigued, and relieved, in just one syllable. He continued his work. “A bit of a fetish, has she? Can’t blame her too much, though. They are pretty.”

It wasn’t her place to judge what made people attracted to each other, but it was something that made her genuinely wary in her interactions with the elf girl so far. She did not appreciate if people rejected her for what she was, but she found it almost equally uncomfortable if that was what made people interested. There had been a few rich lords that the Valo-Kas had worked for with similiar ‘fetishes’.

For a moment, Dorian worked quietly. Then he started to carefully move her arm, and Lara grimaced. The pain returned.

Now Dorian was the one intent on distracting her. “So, if Sera’s tantrum is not what you were referring to, then what was it?”

“The Champion of Kirkwall and his twin.”

“Oh,” Dorian grinned. “I see! Well, they certainly caused a bit of a stir. That Marian knows how to tell a bawdy tale. I think she is a staple in the Rest already. And Garrett _is_ a dashing fellow, to be sure. His whole rugged “_I have traveled in these same clothes all my life_”-look has an unexpected kind of charm to it. For a Fereldan, anyway. I am glad you introduced us.”

Ah, yes. That had been quite an interesting interaction. “So am I.” They had gotten along almost immediately, and it had been nice that both of their teasing and needling had immediately been redirected at each other instead of her, for once.

“I heard he had a spar with the Seeker yesterday, by the way,” Dorian leaned forward, voice lowered as if in conspiracy. “Can you believe he won?”

“I can,” Lara said, without a moment’s hesitation. She had a lot of respect for Cassandra’s skills, but having seen Garrett handle himself, he seemed a little more flexible and versatile.

“Now that’s unexpected,” Dorian laughed. “Is he that good?”

“He is,” Lara nodded, without hesitation.

A wicked grin appeared on Dorian’s face. “Oh? Any where else he is good? Because I _also_ heard a bit of a rumor.”

Lara frowned. “What rumor?”

“Well, let’s put it like this: Any other wrestling between you two you want to fess up to?”

“No!” She had said this with a bit more force than necessary, and Dorian noticed too.

“And would you like to? Wrestle the Champion?” He turned her arm over and bend it, testing his work. The sadist.

“Dorian,” Lara grit her teeth, for moment.

He merely grinned. “Yes? Come now, don’t you think Hawke is handsome? Those eyes? Not to mention, those _arms_? I am sure he had no trouble lifting anyone, including you - and possibly Bull as well.”

She knew him well enough by now to know that he would not let this one go. “He is … attractive. More attractive than most humans. But I am not interested in him like that.”

“In what way are you interested in him, then?”

This made Lara pause, briefly. She frowned. “It is difficult to say. I feel… at ease, with him.”

Having noticed her more serious tone now, Dorian let go of her arm, leaned back on his stool chair. “Yeah, honestly, I noticed. I adore your frosty, prickly attitude, don’t get me wrong. Reminds me of home sometimes, in a most disturbing way. But it was also delightful to see you unexpectedly relaxed around someone. I honestly wouldn’t have been too surprised if he had been loosening you up a bit in a more physical way.” At her frostly glance, he grinned. “But if that is not the case, …. why is he the outlier, then?”

In truth, she had wondered about this since she noticed this fact herself. She tested her theory as she spoke, trying to see if it sounded wrong to put it to words. “He is not here for … me. Not Adaar, not the Herald or even the Inquisitor. He has is own agenda, on some of which there is an entire book published, however much of it might be fictional. I worry less about his motives. In his story, I am a side figure. ”

Dorian mulled this over in his head, nodding lightly, nose in wrinkles. “Sounds like something _you_ would say, yes. How dreadful. If that is what it takes for you to let your guard down, that sounds like a good reason why you _should_ be wrestling him. Some good, motive-less and meaningless sex, my dear, can do wonders for you. Because - and forgive my bluntness, dear Adaar - you need someone to put more cheerful thoughts into your head than murder and being a side-character.”

Lara rolled her eyes at his drama. “I forgive you. I shall decline, though.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian sighed. “I could ask him for you, if that is absolutely necessary. I fix your other problems, too; why not this one.”

“Or you could ask him for yourself,” Lara suggested, back.

“What?” Dorian stared at her.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Lara was indeed not entirely sure if he also - or exclusively - enjoyed the company if men. But seeing him together with Garrett had solidified her previous observations and suspicions. The question was, however, if Dorian would trust her enough to speak of it if it was indeed correct.

Lara tilted her head, slightly. Wondering if that approach to the topic had been too forward. “Or am I wrong?”

He chuckled. For a moment, that was it. He leaned against the table and it was Lara’s turn to exhale with relief. “Oh, you’re not. I do prefer the company of men. I am a bit surprised, though. You seem so dense at so many other issues about the people around you and all the interest that people direct at _you._ I am always surprised when I am reminded that you can also be very perceptive.” He patted her cheek in a way that was very condescending, to be frank.

Lara blinked. “That was rude.”

He snorted. “I should hope it was. I think it was the exact required measure of rudeness, considering the state you’re in.” He actually slapped her arm lightly.

It was all she could do not to outright wince. “How is my arm related to my noticing your interest in men?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “It is related to perceptiveness. Because I happen to know that one mercenary captain who was with you on this would have been able to come up with a better solution than freezing. And I would bet you just didn’t allow him to come near you. You behave like a prissy little cat around him.”

Had anyone else brought this up, Lara would be leaving now. She leaned back in Solas’ armchair. She wondered, had the Iron Bull complained? Was he trying to use her closeness to Dorian against her? She forced herself to keep her voice even. “You are close?”

“Of course not. You are insulting me, my dear. Your dislike for him is hard to overlook, and if the situation were any different, I would concur and approve. But the situation being as it is? I don’t know exactly what he did to you, but he doesn’t seem half as hostile to you as you are to him.” Dorian sighed when he looked up at her face. She had tried to keep it even, but whatever he was seeing, it made him raise his hands, as if in defeat. “Don’t get me wrong, he is a Qunari brute who gets far too much pleasure out of swinging that axe of his around, but he does it competently and I am too fond of you to not want that axe protecting you from your enemies And this is coming from a Tevinter mage who would rather eat his own socks than say that to the man’s face. But I feel I need to say it to you, at least. So whatever is keeping you from utilizing him to the fullest, I wish you would figure it out.”

He was right, in a way. The Iron Bull was competent. There could be said many things about the Qun, but one had to admit that the people they raised as weapons lived up to their ‘purpose’. But as Dorian said - he had no idea why she “disliked” the Iron Bull. For almost all members of the Inquisition who knew what the Iron Bull really was, it did not seem to make much a difference. Of all the people who knew, the only ones who had a faint inkling of what Ben Hassrath really meant were Varric and probably Leliana. Even Dorian had never really heard of them much before. He just saw them as “spies”.

And that was what the Iron Bull had introduced himself as. It was not wrong, but it was only a half-truth. A half-truth that - while shocking - had also placated them.

She considered telling Dorian what the word mean. Considered speaking of the unspeakable, the acts that the Ben-Hassrath were tasked to do to their very own people. She toyed with the thought of explaining to him the role they had for their society and why they were under the Ariqun and not the Arishok - why they were what the South would consider priests. The word “spy” did not do justice to the their zeal.

“I… will keep your words in mind,” Lara said, instead. She was tired from her travels and Solas might return any moment with the balm. This was not the right moment to bring up something that would leave her even more vulnerable than she already felt. She rose from her chair. “Thank you, Dorian.”

If he noticed the abruptness in her getting up now, he did not say it. He turned, sauntering back towards the stairs. “I could say ‘my pleasure’ but that would be a lie of course. So we shall just leave it at that. Don’t get hurt like this again, okay?”

“I shall do my best,” she replied, drily. Lara turned and headed for the door to the battlements. She would inform the Commander of her return, make sure that there was nothing that required her immediate attention and ask him to arrange for a war room meeting in the morning and then retire to her rooms.

“Ah, and Adaar?”

She paused, looked over her shoulder. Dorian had paused at the stairs, with an odd, troubled sort of smile on his face. “You are a menace, but I do adore and appreciate you. You should know that, just in case you don’t notice that for yourself, either.”

“I return the sentiment. Thinly veiled insult included,” she replied, and then made for the door.

She was surprised, however, to hear voices on the other side of it. Voice that made her tense up immediately.

“I find I cannot agree with this, Iron Bull.”

How long had Solas been standing out there, in debate with the Iron Bull? And what was it that they were debating?

“Oh yeah? Why? People are being policed in Fereldan and Orlais, too. How is that any different?”

“You said your people ‘gather intel’ on their own. You are limiting their free will, their choices and thoughts.”

She wanted to take a step back. She wanted to simply move away from this. But a part of her was curious at how this conversation would carry on - and for whose benefit it was. The fact that Solas had apparently engaged the Iron Bull in a conversation about the Ben-Hassrath now, outside his room, where he knew her to be? It seemed too coincidential. If Dorian had called her disapproval of the Iron Bull obvious, surely Solas had noticed as well.

“Yeah,” the Iron Bull said, evenly. “But that’s no different than how it is elsewhere. People are always limited by their governments. Elves are put into alienages - would consider that very limiting myself.”

“It is an injustice, indeed. Are you acknowledging the similarity, then?”

“I am saying that it is not so different in some aspects. I don’t understand how it makes the Qun any worse, at least.”

“But it does. Even in slavery in Tevinter or imprisonment in an alienage, the lowliest peasant might have the freedom of his own thoughts. Your… what is the term?”

“Ben-Hassrath.” Lara was surprised to hear the change in tone with the Iron Bull. He sounded more tense, as he said the word.

“Yes. The Ben-Hassrath aim to take even that safety of their own thoughts.”

“Oh, sure. Because no noble in Orlais has ever had a servant hung for not curtsying low enough. And a Fereldan Arlessa will take kindly to a servant voicing his opinion back to her.”

“But they do not enforce mindless obedience.” Without noticing it, Lara had stepped closer to the door again, leaning her forehead against it. To think that she would find common ground with Solas, of all the people in this venture.

“Come on, Solas. The difference is only in theory, and you know that. It’s window dressing. A sham.” The Iron Bull sounded frustrated - or impatient.

“It is a principle as such, but freedom matters to the lowest,” Solas said it with a small hint of defiance and absolute certainty. No hesitation or doubt in his voice, only a gravity not to be fully grasped.

She heard movement and a scornful snort on the other side. “Freedom. Sure.” A part of her wanted to open the door. Wanted to be able to catalog the Iron Bull’s every jumping muscle. Instead, she listened to the steps she was sure she made out. Could hear them echo, as she was sure The Iron Bull moved away.

And then, she stepped back herself, as the door was pushed inward and Solas was on the other side, facing her.

There was something non-chalant about the look he gave her. He inclined his head, slightly, holding out the balm for her. “Ah, forgive the delay. I take it Dorian managed to heal your arm?”

If she had had any doubt that this situation had been created intentionally, it would vanish now. Only the motive behind it remained unclear. Had he intended to distract the Iron Bull and keep him from entering the room? And he intended for her to hear this conversation to establish his own stance towards the Ben-Hassrath and their ideals?

She took the balm and merely nodded. And, as if in an afterthought, she added “Thank you.” For what exactly she was not completely sure either.

Solas smiled mildly at her, and crossed his arms behind his back. “You are welcome. I shall return to my reading then.” And he walked past her, back to his table.

Lara hesitated and once more turned around, observing the elf that had managed to make a Ben-Hassrath retreat by sheer force of argument. In her mind, she remembered when he had declared them allies. Oddly, it felt more true now and less so at the same time. She continued to underestimate him. Dorian had realized her animosity, but Solas might have grasped at the cause of it.

When she stepped outside, she could see The Iron Bull retreat across the Battlements, down the stairs to the courtyard. And then, suddenly, as if he had felt her gaze, he looked up and directly at her. Neither of them moved, just staring at each other.

Dorian and Solas were aware of her opinion of him, clearly. She had not tried to mask it. She had openly told him to stay away from her. During their last mission, he had mostly done so, though begrudgingly. And now it felt like lines were beginning to be drawn. If his angered expression was anything to go by, he had realized this as well. Whatever their situation had come to, it would not continue like this for long. The first arrow had been shot, and now it was his turn to make a move. And she had the advantages on her side entirely.

She felt a mild thrill when, for the first time, he was the first one to look away. As he continued on in his path, a sense of victory overcame her, even if it had not truly been her own, and even if it might have been staged purely to manipulate her. In these days, she would have to take even a small blessing such as this. With her chin lifted slightly higher, Lara resumed on her own path. Tomorrow, she would worry over how this situation might carry on and how readable she had become. Today, she would rest maybe just slightly easier than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Happy holidays, everyone! 'Tis the season to post the chapter meant for Saturday a little early. ;) As a treat for you guys, because I am quite sure i have the best readers out there. So you get more or less half of what most of you wanted, and a bastardized version of one of my favourite dialogue between companions.
> 
> Also hoping to distract you guys just a little bit from the fact that i scripped the scene of Dorian and Hawke properly meeting. I know some of you wanted to read this. As much fun as I would have had writing this, I wanted to keep the more episodic structure of smaller time skips intact for a little while longer. And I promised to keep the filler chapters shorter. But not to worry- you will get a scene with both of them sooner rather than later. 
> 
> Also thank you for the input re:warden contact. Very fascinating! ;) You'll see relatively soon where I am taking it in this story. We'll keep the two-weekly schedule alive for saturdays, so you can expect new things on January 9th. 
> 
> In that spirit: Let's all knock on wood that the next year will be a more pleasant one. Have lovely holidays, stay healthy and get to 2021 safely, please.


	30. Bas VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nightmare tasting of ash and an unexpected visitor.

**Bas VI**

_She wakes up to ash in her lungs and on her tongue, and her sister shaking her shoulder. _ _“Issalara.”_

_Second looks terrified, as she is shaken by a cough. There is smoke. Where is the fire? _ _“Evari?”_

_“They found us,” her sister whispers in Qunlat._

_“Who?” She scrambles to her feet, but is pulled down on her knees._

_Her heart in her chest hammering; she looks around. Smoke is coming in under the door, through the shut window and from the straw roof._

_“Ben Hassrath.” Second cougs. Then grabbs her by her shoulders, shaking her. “Come!”_

_She knows that word. Had heard them speak it. She remembers. She feared._

_“Hehrarad? Talri?” She asks, looking around, following her sister on her hands and knees. She still speaks clumsily. _

_“Outside,” Second says, starting to pull at her. “With mercenaries. Safe.”_

_“Adaar?”_

_“Gone,” Second shoots back, terrified. “Come! Come now!”_

_Gone? She does not understand._

_She does not have time to think. Her sister puts a hand on her shoulder. Then extends one arm. _

_The hut is shaking. Boulders rise from the ground._

_A voice, outside, in Qunlat. _ _“Be ready! They are resisting! They are bas!”_

_A push to her shoulder. _ _“Run. Don’t pause, don’t look back.”_

_Where, she wants to ask, but is still coughing._

_And then the boulders break through two off the walls, and there is shouting outside._

_And she starts running, to freedom, to the beat of her hammering heart. _

_She sees the shape of a man lounging, but doesn_ _’t pause. On instinct, she knows she has to hide. She cannot fight. Not like Second._

_She ducks through the tall grass, tries to move in ways that would hide her. She has to reach the river. She can follow it. Find First and Third._

_Behind her, there is shouting. She hears their rage._

_Ben-Hassrath. Ben-Hassrath. Ben-Hassrath._

_Her heart beating the word further into her skull._

_Where is he? Why is he not here? Where is Adaar?_

_She runs, and continues, and for a moment thinks no one is following._

_But then she hears them again._

_“They are close. Do not let them escape.”_

_Tears on her face, and smoke still in her lungs. She fights the coughing, knows it will end her. But it shakes free from her, and she hears them call. They know where she is._

_She cannot run anymore. The grass is tall, she needs to hide. The stream is too far._

_Nearby is a rock formation. She crawls under it, hugging her knees to her chest to press down on her lungs, trying to breath and breath not to deep at the same time. _

_Her heart is hammering in her chest so loud that she thinks they have to hear it. _

_Suppressed coughing shakes her, and for a moment she feels like she is choking on it._

_If they hear it, everything is over. They will kill her – or worse, take her back. Break her, remake her. _

_She presses her palms to her face, balls of her palms against her mouth, and considers shutting her eyes. But she shouldn_ _’t, she knows this. _

_She has to wait for the right moment. She cannot stay in the same spot. They will find her, sooner or later. Ben-Hassrath are persistent._

_They pass by her, so close that if she would reach out, she could grab their booted ankles. She hears them talk amongst themselves in Qunlat. They talk of the Bas that escaped them._

_Then a hand is on her shoulder, turning her slightly. _

_It is Second. Finger to her lips. Blood on her forehead, ash on her face._

_She reaches out to hug her, relieved, but Second catches her arms in her palms, shakes her head._

_She turns without a word, crouched and crawling off._

_She tries to follow as best she can, but her legs are much shorter and in pain. She panics when she cannot see Second anymore, but continues on._

_For a moment, all she hears is the rustling of the grass. She thinks they are safe. _

_But then something hits her with a force that knocks her to the ground._

_Something sharp ins on her ankle, and as she looks down, she is dragged across the floor by a whip. The red marked face of a Sten grins down on her, crazed expression on his face. _ _“Bas! I have one!” He screams. He bends down, reaching for her neck, and she is frozen in fear.  
_

_But then Second throws herself over her, with a cry. _ _“You will not touch her,” she cries in Qunlat, throwing herself against him. He stumbles a few steps backwards and then coughes. Blood. The Sten is impaled on a spike of stone that has been driven from the ground._

_The whip falls limp from his hand, and she scrambles to her feet. But they heard him._

_More are coming towards them, and Second looks over her shoulder towards her. _

_“Run,” she urges. “Run and hide, Issalara!”_

_She is crying. _ _“No,” she whimpers._

_“No,” someone whimpers beside her. A boy is next to her, with blond hair._

_He is looking at her, with desperation in his watery eyes. _ _“They got her, didn’t they? They hurt her. You saw it.”_

_It_ _’s Cole._

_The name tugs on her mind and she _… she remembers him.

She looks back to her sister, but it feels distant now. As if a fog had settled between them.

She reaches out, but her hand is larger, and when she touches the figment of her sister’s cheek, she cannot unsee it, unfeel it. She pulls her hand back.

Instead of reaching for Evari, she looks at the boy with the large blue eyes, and reaches out for him, pulling him in close, one arm over his shoulder. Then she turns both of them from her sister’s already fading silhouette and pulls him down to crouch in the grass with her. He is terrified, she realizes. He is shaking.

“Cole,” she says, calmly. “Do not worry for her. This was long past.”

“Her pain lingers with you,” he whispers. “You hear her cries. She heard you, too,” he didn’t pause as he was speaking, eyes darting around, lingering on the space behind her. “She was desperate for you to get away. She was so scared. _They are hurting her, trying to know of you, of your siblings and him. They are looking for him and they are angry. They have been waiting long enough. They want to wait no longer. They are cruel. She is frightened of what they can do._”

“I know. I was, too. I might still be,” Isallara whispers back, trying to urge away the sounds in the back of her mind. It is but a figment of a memory, however real it might feel here. “ Let us leave this behind.”

_“I have to put up a fight, I have to distract them. He is gone and they don’t know it yet,” he whispered back. Behind them, there was a scream, in Qunlat. The sounds remained unclear, but Lara knew that it had been the tenants of the Qun. “I have to save her.”_

Lara realized, he was still talking of Evari. Whatever he was - spirit or boy - he was not able to detach himself from some of the things he saw in the fade.

She put her second arm around him, pulling him into a hug. Her much larger frame engulfed him easily. “She did. I am here, Cole. You found me here.”

He did not hug back, but he turned his head, as if he was listening for a heartbeat. Were there heartbeats in the Fade? She had never considered this.

“I did. You are always so loud,” he said, voice a little less fragile. “Sadness and Anger are louder than Loneliness and Pride. But they are more difficult and older. They want to be heard, to be known. They seek something.”

She wondered. All of these were negative emotions. Was he talking of other spirits, drawn by her nightmares? She knew that a lingering spirit could draw others closer. That was how the seers in Rivain found the help they needed. Had no one ever taught this child how to soothe a spirit, before it might turn into a demon?

Again, she wondered what kind of spirit he was - or had been possessed by. Usually the fade revealed their nature more, but she had no progress with him. Which served to worry her further.

“Let them be known to me,” she said, now fully pulling him into her lap, holding him like a child. “Let me help.”

He reached up, and for a moment she thought he was going to embrace her as well. But he pointed at something instead, and to their left she recognized something else. Beyond the grass, it looked like a graveyard in the middle of a dark, dark lake. Several caskets were floating atop it. There were letters written across these caskets, glowing a feint, pale blue. She could make out forms, tall with armor and weaponry. But none coming closer.

This was not something she had ever seen in her dreams. This was not about her, she realized.

For a moment, she imagined she heard something, a voice in the back of her mind. _Emma solas him var din__’an. Tel garas solasan. _

Then Cole spoke again. “They are sad. They have waited so long for forgiveness. They want you not to come to them anymore until you can help.”

“Come where, Cole?” She could not recall any lake or graveyard. “Help how?”

“The Oasis,” he whispered. “They need to be humble again.”

Could his troubles since the Oasis have been caused by spirits from there lingering with him? It would have explained his eratic rambling. Had he come here seeking her help?

“You can tell them, I will humble them the next time I come. I promise. But they have to leave.” Or she would have to _make _them leave.

He didn’t reply, but she felt a sudden force weigh down heavily on both of them. It felt like air was being pushed out of her lungs.

And then, she sat up straight, head spinning, breathing heavily.

It was dark around her, and it took her a moment to realize that she was in her own bed. She had woken up. A dream.

Something shifted next to her, and she was startled by the movement. But then she recognized that it was Cole, curled up, staring up at her. Not saying anything.

Lara inhaled and exhaled, deeply, once. She rubbed her palms over her sweaty face, her own nightmare still lingering in her bones.

“They are quiet,” Cole whispered.

“Good,” she whispered back, lying back down. She closed her eyes for a moment. “Then let’s go back to sleep.”

When she turned on her side, prepared to offer Cole to just stay here, he was gone already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't think the dream sequences were over, did you?  
I know, we havn't had one in a while, but I was playing the long con on you guys.  
Also, this chapter is part of why I included the dream sequences in the first place. Cole's abolity to visit the Inquisitor's mind was woefully underemployed in the game. Which makes sense, they had other things to do and gave us other wonderful nightmare material, but still. His quest is _so_ good and I always wanted to have him visit some more of her nightmares.
> 
> Next chapter will be up a little earlier than usual by next saturday. For one, I feel mildly bad for having a dream be the update for this week, but i need a little more time for what is coming up. The next chapter will probably be a 6-7k behemoth. Come prepared. And also, we all could use more distraction from real life, right? Right? It's not just me, right?
> 
> Last but not least: I love you guys. Please take care of yourselves. 2021 might not look like it's much better than 2020 so far, but WE will be better. We will prevail.


	31. Sincere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marian and Lara have a bit of a heart to heart.

_Her eyes look sharp and steady  
Into the empty parts of me_ _  
  
_

* * *

**#31 - Sincere**

“Well. That is unexpected.”

Issalara barely looked up when she heard Varric mumble next to her. The dwarf looked miserable, but it might also be the fact that he was still damp from their journey. All their way here, he had loudly reminded all of them of how much he hated rain. Crestwood was not the most pleasant place to be in, but that might be just as well considering that they were looking for a secret contact here. Too lively a place would not serve their purpose well.

Now, an hour or two into their rest, Lara, Garrett, Varric and Marian were huddled close around a small fire under a protruding piece of stone structure which they had used to put some of their tents up against. Instead of separate tents, however, they had combined the waxed skins into one larger alcove to protect them from the ghastly weather outside.

Lara had just started to get a little bit more comfortable when, just a few moments ago, one of their scouts had appeared. Lara had recognized the freckled boy as one of Charter’s men and he in turn had hesitated to head over to her and give her the letter, so he had given it to Varric instead and then squirreled away hastily. Another reason to suspect that the letter was not one of good news.

“What is it?” Marian asked, with a yawn. “More bad weather on its way here?”

“Kind of,” Varric snorted. “Namely, the Seeker and the Chargers.”

“What? Why?” Lara asked a little more sharply than necessary. They had intentionally set out with only the barest minimum of people. A larger group such as the Chargers would surely not help keep them from being noticed. And if there was one thing she didn’t need to add to this, it was the Iron Bull.

“Apparently, the situation has changed a bit since we left Skyhold.” Varric raised his letters, as he counted out loud. “For one, we have heightened Warden activity in the area, and also some Red Templars. That much is unchanged. But now we found that the Red Templars might be guarding a Red Lyrium mine and that Venatori are headed here, too. Not to mention, there is supposedly a Dragon in the area that some rich Orlesian lord is gathering a hunting party for. And he has been quite vocal that he has every intention of slaying it in the name of our dear Inquisitor.” Varric raised his second hand, doing a little wave with all of the fingers. “And - let’s not forget - the glowing shit in the lake and the demons coming out of that. Apparently our Spymaster, Seeker, Commander and even the Ambassador think it might be best to hide our intentions in a larger group now, rather than continue with the stealth-thing. They want us to join this lord’s hunting party once the Chargers arrive come morning.”

“Great,” both Marian and Garrett said unisono - though Garrett sounded actually pleased and Marian’s tone was a little sarcastic. The twins exchange a look. As did Varric and Issalara.

“I mean - it is _great_, right? We get to hunt a Dragon. I should think you of all people would love that, sister dearest.” Garrett seemed genuinely confused.

Marian patted his cheek, lovingly, but ended the patting with a slightly more forceful slap and a toothy grin. “And that is why _I _think _you_ shouldn’t think _at all_ sometimes. For one, have I ever liked to share my toys?” She paused, but didn’t truly wait for a reply. “No, no, we both know I don’t. And secondly, this will make it just harder to do our actual job here. Which is to figure out this Warden business. I know you like the Seeker very much for pushing you around with that shield of hers, but the woman isn’t subtle.”

“Marian, you sound so impatient. You’re not wrong, but surely after the Dragon Slaying is done we can still slip away to meet our friend,” Garrett openly rolled his eyes.

“_Meet our friend_? Garrett, don’t act the fool. You know how much he is risking. If we wait too long, the Wardens might find him first,” Marian said, crossing her arms over her chest, a sharp edge to her tone.

“Come now. Have a little faith in his abilities. He evaded them this long,” Garrett now patted his sisters cheek, completely unperturbed, even smiling a little. “Or are you just that eager to see him?”

“Oh, yes, that is the reason. I can hardly gird my loins around him. Or you are confusing the two of us again,” Marian hissed back.

Lara glanced between the two Hawkes, as they seemed to now be staring each other down, communicating nonverbally. She had not bothered to ask details about the contact so far, since both had remained vague enough to make it seem purposeful. But now she wondered if there was a more personal nature to their connection? She could not recall any such mentions in the book. Then again, the book had turned out to be quite fictional in so many respects. A hidden Warden lover would not be surprising. For either of them.

“Now, now, Champions. There’s no point arguing over this anyway,” Varric now decided to speak up. He still sounded quite … grumpy. “Look, what’s done is done. The letter says the others will arrive by morning and Snowflake’s fan has been informed of our joining his party. We can only hope that we can get it over with quickly. And let’s be honest, none of this sounds great. Maybe they are right to send reinforcements to us.”

Marian threw her arm around Varric. “Why, you sound as if you don’t trust us to protect you, Varric.”

“_Protect_ me? Half of the danger in my life comes from you two knuckleheads.”

“Only half?” Marian sounded almost offended. 

“Varric is right. We cannot change this. We should rest,” Lara spoke up, pulling her traveling cloak a little closer.

Though they agreed, this didn’t stop Marian, Garrett and Varric from bickering on a little while longer.

Lara was pretty sure she fell asleep to the sound of it within the hour.

* * *

She was surprised when she woke to the sound of Marian’s voice again, if lowered.

“Hey, Inquisitorialness. Wake up, we gotta move.”

Lara sat up, already reaching for her staff, looking around to get beyond the sense of disorientation and drowsiness. It was still dark. The fire had burned down low. Had the others arrived early? She could hear nothing but the rain and the howling wind. Varric and Garrett seemed asleep on the ground close by, still. Confused and alarmed, she looked to Marian, who was in full gear, a bag on her shoulder. And then the woman raised a finger to her lips.

“Trust me. Just take what you need and meet me outside. Quietly, don’t wake them.” With that, the Shadow of the Champion snuck outside.

Trust? What was the woman talking about. Lara rubbed a hand over her face, again looking to the fire. She could barely have slept but a few hours. And now this? A part of her wanted to ignore the madwoman and just lie down again. A part of her wanted to growl and groan. What she ended up doing was reaching for her staff and bag, checking to see that she had her bare necessities, and follow Marian outside.

The woman was waiting a few feet away, next to a different rock formation, hood pulled up and leaning on her own staff. When she saw Lara, she waved her over.

“What is it,” Lara demanded once she reached her, voice still lowered though she doubted her voice would carry with that awful wind howling about them.

“We’re sneaking off to meet our contact alone,” Marian stated, rather bluntly.

Lara blinked. Frowned. Looked around, choosing her words carefully. “Are you this worried for his safety?”

Marian shrugged, but then chose to shake her head instead. “No, Garrett was right, loathe as I am to admit it. The man can take care of himself; he is resourceful. That’s half his charm, to be honest. Let’s talk as we walk, okay?”

Lara hesitated, briefly, glancing back to the tent. But she could not deny that this was not exactly an idea she was opposed to. Especially if it included avoiding meeting up with the Chargers in the morning. Varric would have to forgive her for this. So she nodded and they started moving.

And they moved quietly and quickly. Hawke had no trouble finding her way around this place in the dark, apparently, only occasionally pausing to look for some stars and the horizon. She reminded Lara of a mabari on a trail. The way her jaw was set and the way she moved was all with determination. Garrett was dangerous in his charm, but this one was a different danger altogether.

After a little while, Lara deemed it safe to resume the conversation. “Speak. Why are we leaving alone?” Surely, Varric and Garrett might have been convinced to go behind Cassandra’s back with this plan?

Marian shot her a look. “Honestly, four already is quite a crowd for this mission. I always wanted us to go alone, but your people would have none of it. I think I could have made Varric and Garett let us leave on our own, but I am not very patient, as you might have noticed. They’d have required me to give them a good reason, and I am not sure that would have been to your liking.”

“_My_ liking?” What in the word did she have to do with this?

Marian paused, ducking in the cover of one of the larger bushes in the area, pulling Lara in with her. The woman meant business, as her impatient facial expression made clear. “Yeah, look. Let’s not beat about the bush here. You don’t trust the big guy and this won’t work with him around. And I’d rather he not fuck this up for us.”

She hated echoing her again, but all Lara could say was, “The _big_ guy.”

Marian rolled her eyes. “Yes. The Iron Bull. I saw your reaction to the news that he’s coming.”

That was not untrue, and yet it eluded her why this would be the issue. “How would he ‘fuck this up’ exactly.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment both just stared at each other, already soaked again from the rain, hardly able to make each other’s faces out by moonlight alone. Lara could tell that Marian didn’t really enjoy this conversation anymore than she did, just from the way she kept tapping her leg. She wanted to move on. But Lara would not budge until she had gotten a clear lay of the scene.

And it seemed that Hawke was aware of it. So she pushed one hand through her hair, and sighed. “I need you comfortable when you meet my contact. You’re not the trusting sort. But my guy isn’t super excited to become part of this, either. And if both of you are on edge, unhappy things might happen. So we had to leave before the big guy shows up and muscles his way in. Which I have no doubt he’d try. I mean, you go positively rigid when he so much as looks at you and you’re no use in that state. And, frankly speaking, I think he knows as well and just doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck. Which is not something I thought you wanted to discuss in detail with either of the other two idiots. They’re too soft and would turn this into a bigger deal than it is. So, my solution is to just avoid the obstacles entirely. Can we now get a move on or what? We have a solid hour left ahead of us, I should think.”

All Lara could do, for a moment, was stare. It was the most Hawke had said to Lara directly since arriving. And all of it was uncomfortably on point, like a knife thrown in the black of a target. She had already noticed that the woman was perceptive, that she seemed to have her eyes and ears everywhere. But this was… alarming.

So, slowly, Lara nodded. “Let’s proceed.”

* * *

For their continued trek through the underbrush, away from any roads, Lara stared at the significantly smaller woman ahead of her. She had much less of a read on her than Hawke had on Lara. How had this happened? Had she been too distracted by the twin brother to notice the sharp mind and eyes of the sister? If the Qun were to send assassins after her, this was the type of person they would send. This is what she should be prepared for. Not that anything that Hawke had said was a secret or particularly dangerous to her. It was just a surprise to see someone put it together well and use it. A Qunari spy might have used her dislike for the Iron Bull to lure her away from him as well.

It was almost exactly as long as Marian had said until the woman suddenly paused, with a curse. “Wardens,” she hissed out, pulling Lara behind a rock formation, pointing ahead of them. Lara could make out two cloaked figures, but only upon closer inspection could she make out the grey Griffon symbol one of them had on his shoulder. Marian cursed again. “It’s not far, but we’ll have to wait them out.” Then she started looking around, and finally pointed towards bushes and a small ledge.

Both women moved towards it, and crouched down to their best abilities. Marian could move almost freely, but it was tricky for Lara, and she hit her horns painfully against the stone a few times. From this spot, they could see the Wardens, still, so they waited. The men seemed to be arguing, not moving. Whatever they were doing, it didn’t seem to involve much walking.

It was Marian who broke the silence, after a little while. “Hey, sorry.”

Lara raised an eyebrow at her, but when she realized the woman probably couldn’t see it, she added “For?”

“Earlier. I don’t judge you for not trusting the big guy, you know. You’re probably right not to. Didn’t mean to be an ass about it.”

“You weren’t,” Lara said simply, trying to keep her voice even. “You said things as you see them.”

“Maybe. But what I’m trying to say is, I get it. I’m not a big fan of the Qun myself.”

Ah, there it was. The conversation Lara had been hoping for and dreading ever since both Hawkes had showed up in Skyhold. “Because of Kirkwall.” She turned her head just enough so she could make out the silhouette of Marian.

The woman kept her gaze ahead, probably tracking every move the Wardens on the road below made. “They were there for years, you know. Garrett handled most of the official business - the Arishok, and such. I am not the diplomatic type and Garrett is well aware of that. But I talked with Isabella. I saw them operating in the city. I fought more of their people, too. Tal-Vashoth and actual Qunari. I tried to free Ketojan - the Sareebas, I mean. So, believe me. I get it.”

Lara was surprised by the dark tone of the other woman’s voice. Dark, and … angry. But she couldn’t help it. Something in her was completely dark as well. How often had she head the Valo-Kas compared to ‘actual’ Qunari? How often had compliments directed at her that way been actual insults? “And what is it you get, exactly,” she asked, hearing the apprehension in her voice.

“Why you are afraid,” Marian replied, evenly. As evenly as if she had talked about the way Lara wore her hair, not about the vulnerability she caried.

Lara forced herself to inhale, evenly. Gripped the staff more tightly, then loosened her grip, then gripped it firmly again. “Is that so.”

Marian carried on, her voice much more quiet now. “Garrett won’t talk about it and Varric didn’t want to scare people too much so he ended up downplaying it in the book. So let me explain this to you.” Marian inhaled deeply, audibly. “When they arrived in the the city, they just took a part. They didn’t ask, they didn’t negotiate. Where refugees had been begging outside of the town for years, they just came and claimed and no one did anything. No one was _able_ to do anything. Of course, the politician played at politics - talks of establishing trade, and such. But they were kidding the public and themselves from the very beginning.”

A cloud moved, and for a moment Lara could make out more of Marian’s face. There was a different sort of shadow over her face, however. And Lara noticed how white the woman’s own knuckles were as she held unto her staff. “They quietly started converting and they did so easily.” A dark, humorless laugh followed. “Gotta be honest, it likely wasn’t difficult. When you make promises of _anything_ to people who have _nothing_? That’s not a challenge. That’s using people. And there were plenty of people in Kirkwall with absolutely _nothing_.”

Lara felt the chill she could hear in Marian’s voice. For once, the ice was not coming from her. Instead, she felt herself losing the grip on her staff. She believed her.

“Towards the end of it, I reckon half of the Alienage and a solid third of Darktown had been won to their cause. If the Chantry hadn’t been blown up by … well, their fucked up mage politics, I think Kirkwall would have been happily burned down by those serving the Qun. And the mad thing is, I think some are still operating for the Qun there. Not that anyone can say for sure. And things have been gradually improving. But not enough. Never enough.”

“Is that why you left?”

Marian shrugged, still staring ahead. The Wardens were quite far enough now. They could probably move out of their hiding spot, but neither of them did. “Let’s say it made leaving Kirkwall easier for me. And I won’t lie, this city will forever be a thorn in my side, festering until I manage to fix what we fucked up there. But no. That’s not really the reason why we left. I wouldn’t let them take this mess of a city from me.” Marian snorted, at the thought. “If I could only ever live where I think I can trust everyone, I could live nowhere. Even your Inquisition is absolutely riddled with spies.” If she noticed Lara tensing up, she didn’t say anything. “Just like every major city and major court this side of the ocean is probably infested with spies by that spymaster of yours. And, of course, Varric’s own spynetwork. I bet even in Orzamar someone is whispering stories of your grandness into the King’s ear.”

The thought made Lara almost shudder. Almost. And then, for once, Hawke turned her head to look at her. Marian couldn’t make out enough of her face to read it, but the pause was long enough to become uncomfortable. So she broke the silence. “What?”

“It bothers _you_, doesn’t it? This spy business. You come from different stuff. At heart, you’re a mercenary.”

Lara frowned, slightly. “Pardon?”

“Oh, you know. Close knit brothers and sister in arms, open battlefields, the romanticizing of some sort of code for killing stuff for money. You’re honestly more like Garrett. You actually _want_ to trust people, even if you’re bad at it,” Marian spoke with a tone in her voice that made it sound like she had realized this only now. And as if she was a little bit amused by this fact.

Issalara had to ponder that herself, so foreign did it sound. Did she _want_ to trust people? “I don’t enjoy knowing that there are people close to me that I _cannot_ trust.” That was only a mild variation, but it rang truer somehow.

Marian made a sound at the back of her throat that sounded unconvinced. “Not a fan of ‘keeping your enemies close’, are you? Sensible, probably. Though it makes me wonder why you keep the big guy around then.” When Lara didn’t reply, Marian shrugged. “Not my business, of course. But even those you love and trust can betray you, you know. ” Another, humorless laugh. “Worse even than others.”

Maybe it was too direct, but Lara felt a little tired at being so poked and prodded and dissected. She wanted to prod back. “Who was it that betrayed you?”

A silence followed, yet again, and the Marian sighed. “Technically, half of my friends have lied and left and betrayed me at one point. But that’s not what you mean, is it? It’s only fair, I guess. I told you this much already. You read Varric’s book?”

“Most of it.” She had still only managed to cover half of it.

“Well. Wouldn’t want to spoil anything. But once there was a man I thought I loved. He loved something else a little more than me and didn’t care to tell me. And by something else I mean blowing up the fucking Chantry. Tada - the end.”

Lara heard the tiredness and the pain in the other woman’s voice and didn’t know what to do with it. What would Dorian do, if he were here? He would joke, would change the topic, but she couldn’t well do that. She, awkwardly, reached out. Slowly put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder.

Marian didn’t shake it off, but also didn’t react to it. “’S fine. I ripped him a new one, and he is pretty much on the run for the rest of his life. Hurts, though. I knew he was up to something, but I couldn’t figure it out. I was suspicious for a whole month and it ate at me and I still didn’t see it coming. And mind you, I fucked the guy semi-regularly.” Again, that empty laugh. “So I guess what I am saying is - trust is fucking hard, and it won’t always work out. Want free, shitty advice from someone who hardly has a grip on her own life?”

Lara nodded, instinctively, pulling her hand back. Even if she wasn’t sure if the question had been real. But she did mean it - Marian Hawke, as strange as she was, might be one of the few people whose advise she would consider on the matter.

“Well, here it is: Make your peace with the big guy or kick him out. Your mistrust might keep you alive but it will eat at you and make you suffer. You more than him. Don’t let him do that to you. If someone wants to fuck with you, they will find a way, trust or not. So make sure that you’ll get stabbed in the front instead of in the back - that way at least you’ll see it coming.”

It was odd. Her words didn’t sound very serious, but they had a gravity to them that Lara couldn’t put her finger on. Marian was speaking with insight from experience. Experiences someone her age probably shouldn’t have made in the amount that she had and with insight that Lara wouldn’t have expected from her. Lara had been impressed by the attitude that Garrett Hawke had, and felt drawn to his smiles and the ease with which he caried himself. But now, she might be reevaluating this opinion.

Before she could mull what she had learned of the other woman over further and consider if there was an appropriate response, Marian suddenly reached out and patted the side of her leg. “Speaking of getting stabbed in the front. I think we can move to the meeting point now and see who’s waiting there. Come on.” Without hesitation, Marian moved out and back into the rain.

Lara followed on her heels, quietly. She was relieved to see that Marian was heading straight for another nearby rock formation, and a hidden door, marked by a smuggler’s sign. They pushed deeper into the cave until they found a second wooden door. And here, finally, Marian stepped aside a little. “Who should go first?”

After just a moment of hesitation, Lara gestured for Marian to go ahead. With a nod, the woman kicked the door down, staff ready, bellowing out, “Honey, I’m home!”

Lara followed, staff in hand as well, taking in their surroundings. The cave seemed to be lived in - candles all over the place, some packs with food, and maps and books littering the place. Lara stepped closer to one particular map, with scribbles on it all along the coast of the Free Marches. She leaned forward a little, observing the map more closely. This was some kind of cipher, but there were some dwarven signs scribbled along with them. Then she heard a sound, whipping around just in time to see an arrow shoot past her head, and pierce itself straight into Marian’s raised staff. If not for Marian’s immediate laughter, Lara would have thrown a bolt of lightning back. She instinctively raised a shield and growled.

“I told to you to come alone,” an angry husky and male voice intoned. A man was crouching in a blind spot of the room, next to the door, bow ready.

“And I told you that no woman worth her money would pass up on a chance to meet you,” Marian winked at the man. He sighed, and for a moment it reminded Lara awfully of the sigh Varric made sometimes when Marian spoke. A sound of equal measures of exasperation and fondness. The man lowered his bow, stepping out from the shadow.

Long, dark hair, a stubble to his chin, and a relatively simple leather armor that had seen better days.

“Let me introduce you - the Lady Inquisitorialness herself, Issalara Adaar, blessed Herald of Andraste and a little bit of a grumpy person. But she’s good, mostly.” Marian reached out for Lara, but when she saw her look, she pulled back her hand. Instead, she made a gesture towards the man. “And this sweet ray of sunshine is the assistant to the first Warden of Weisshaupt himself, and the source of all his sister’s headaches - Nathaniel Howe.”

The man nodded briefly at her and added a stiff bow. “Inquisitor. I hear we have a common cause.” There was calculation in his eyes as he looked her over.

Lara nodded back and looked the man over in turn. He was hard to place. Something in how he carried himself screamed noble to her, but his hands were calloused and his clothing too worn. She knew that the Grey Wardens didn’t discriminate in who they took into their rank, but for a noble-born to end up with them, it usually took a considerable crime. A thought not altogether pleasing. “Indeed. We are looking into the disappearance of the Wardens. If you are truly the assistant to the first Warden himself, I hope you can clear this matter up.”

Howe grimaced. “I wish I could, Your Grace. I was sent here from Anderfels to investigate the same matter, I am afraid. But… well, the matter is difficult, but my ties to Weisshaupt are severed until I can resolve the situation. Which is why I am here.” 

“Oh?” Marian seemed a little surprised. “They have kicked you out? But you’re always such a good soldier. If only Anders could be here to hear this. He would be delighted.”

Something about her words seemed to make Howe flinch. He put away his bow and stepped closer. “Anders …. Yes, he would enjoy this. He always mocked my devotion to the Wardens. Do you know where he is?”

“No, and that’s better for both of us.” Marian grimaced. “But, you were speaking of your devotion. Don’t stop on my account.”

It seemed like Nathaniel wanted to add something, but he glanced at Lara instead. Apparently, he didn’t trust her enough to press the issue in her presence. “Yes. As I was saying, the situation in Orlais is precarious. Many Wardens have gone missing and Orlais has stopped answering Weisshaupt’s call.”

Not that she didn’t appreciate the insight into Warden business, but this wasn’t exactly what they had come for. They really only cared about one aspect of this. “Is Corypheus involved in this?” Lara crossed her arms over her chest.

Howe nodded, after a moment’s hesitation. “Officially, my investigation is not conclusive yet, but I think so. After Hawke seemingly slayed Corypheus, the First Warden thought the matter settled.”

“In his defense, we all did,” Marian sighed, and leaned against one of the pillars.

Nathaniel smiled, briefly. The first expression on his face that wasn't entirely serious. One might consider him handsome, Lara realized. “If I recall, Varric was worried, was he not? He made me look up everything I could find on Corypheus and Malcolm in our Archives. It was due to him that people began to associate me with the matter. That’s why I heard from a friend here when there were rumors of his name being whispered a few months ago. It coincided with reports of a massive amount of Warden’s hearing the Calling in Orlais.”

“Wait, what?” Marian frowned. “Why am I hearing of this only now. How massive are we talking?”

“I cannot be sure. But the number seemed high enough to worry Weisshaupt. And you forget that the Wardens don’t appreciate when we get too many outsiders involved in our issues.” He paused, briefly, looking at Issalara. “Though I suspect the First would make an exception here. Have you been made aware of the Calling?”

Lara nodded, briefly. It had been mentioned in one of the Warden stashes found in the Hinterlands. Blackwall had explained it as a sign that a Warden’s life was coming to an end. Though, as he had not heard his, he had remained rather vague. “A sign that the life of a Warden is ending, I was told.”

“That is a way to put it, yes,” Howe nodded, a grave expression on his face. “Though you have to understand - it is torture. The part of our fate the Order wants us to talk about the least. First are dreams - nightmares - then voices you hear. And when these voices become too unbearable, the Wardens have nothing left but to go into the Deep Roads, fighting Darkspawn until they die - hopefully, with some dignity and honor left in them. So when too many hear this Calling at the same time, it is a grave issue. If too many Wardens die at the same time, who is to fight the next Blight?”

Was this what was awaiting Blackwall? Or was he hearing it - and just had not spoken of it? But in their conversation, had he not said that he was not hearing it? And, aside from that, if the Wardens in Orlais were hearing these voices in masses… “Are you hearing it as well?”

Howe paused, then nodded, curtly. “For a while now, ever since I came to Orlais. But the timing of it makes me suspicious. Makes it a little easier to ignore it. Though it is … maddening.”

“Alright, we will pity you later and buy you lots of ale,” Marian sounded impatient. “What did you find out about it, though?”

Nathaniel shot her a look. “Tactful, Marian, as always. How glad I am for your friendship.”

“Alright. Ale and maybe we’ll find someone to keep you company, how’s that for friendship?”

If he thought anything about it, he just shook his head. He looked away from Marian, focusing his steel grey gaze on Lara again. “We reached out to the Warden-Commander of Orlais, Clarel de Chanson. At first, she remained vague - and then, no answers at all. So we believed that there might be something to the rumor. After all, the Calling has been linked to Blights in the past. Maybe this time, it is not the rising of an archdemon that is causing this, but the rising of Corypheus. He seems to be Darkspawn. And the First believes that there is a connection between him and another that I encountered with the Hero of Ferelden in Amaranthine many years ago - The Architect. It is why I was selected to come here.”

There was too much information in this that was entirely new to Issalara. Where was Amaranthine? And who was that Architect? She heard Leliana state that Corypheus might be Darkspawn, but had not really thought much on the matter.

Either way, Marian seemed to make much more of his words than Lara did. The woman cursed, loudly. “That one? Andraste’s rotten ass, that would be bad news. Are you sure?”

Whoever or whatever the Architect was, it sounded like something Lara should look into - among the many other new things she was hearing about for the first time. She should have had more than just a brief chat with Blackwall before coming here.

“I am not, or I would be back in Weisshaupt right now.” For the first time, Howe sounded annoyed. “But if they are alike, it is not unreasonable to think that this Corypheus has manipulated the Wardens of Orlais. If they are convinced that they are dying soon, they might have broken ties with Weisshaupt and gone rogue in desperation. But I still have not managed to fully resolve what is happening in Orlais at the moment. I have reached out to someone who I think might be able to give us more details, but I am yet awaiting to hear from them.”

“Well, you can’t wait here. There were Wardens outside, and it seems they might be looking for you, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel frowned. “Then it might be that they have found my contact person and have intercepted our letters.”

“So, what now?” Marian pushed off the wall, started pacing the room. “Shit, this is not at all how I thought this would go.”

“I am sorry to disappoint,” Nathaniel replied, drily, watching Hawke pace.

“I suggest we return to Skyhold, immediately,” Lara spoke up. She looked at the Warden, hesitating briefly. “And I suggest you come with us.”

“Oh? What of the Dragon we are to slay, Adaar? The Seeker will be furious,” Marian paused her pacing and spoke with a fake surprise, but could barely hide her delight.

Lara only glanced at her, but directed her words at the Warden. Marian had said he was hesitant to trust, and he seemed hesitant about her invitation as well. “The lord and his dragon will have to wait. I know you were looking to remain undetected, but it appears too late for that. If your contact has been found, this region will remain dangerous for you. If not, and they do reach out to you, it is imperative we can move immediately. Either way, your information is valuable, and we can best protect it and you if we remain close.”

“You should take her up on that ‘_remain close_’ invitation,” Marian sauntered over to Howe and leaned on him, pretending to whisper in the direction of her friend. “She has a very nice bedroom, too, you know. She took me there when I arrived. And she wrestled Garrett to the ground.”

_Both _Howe and Lara shot Marian a look at that, and the woman just winked. Then Howe pushed a hand through his hair, dark and unhappy expression on his face. And nodded, curtly. “I would have liked to keep a low profile, but it seems you are right. I will come with you, for now. Let me pack up a few things and we can move out.”

“Great,” Marian clapped her hands, once. It echoed uncomfortably in the cave. “Then how about this - you wait here and ‘remain close’ and I go and collect a few strays.” When Nathaniel tensed up at her words, Marian just waved her hand at him. “Oh, relax. We may or may not have ditched Garrett and Varric out there somewhere.”

“Why?” Howe sounded genuinely disbelieving. “I could have understood it the other way round, but you leaving them?”

Marian showed a little too much teeth in her grin. “I was worried Garrett would distract you by making eyes at you straight away. Don’t bring it up, but he and Fenris aren’t an item anymore. I think it is his undying love for you that got in his way. And now his ego is so fragile, he wouldn’t have handled your continuous rejection well. But don’t tell him I told you. I’ll be right back with them.” And without further hesitation, or giving either a chance to protest, Marian slipped back out into the rain.

Lara and Howe exchanged an awkward look. Then Howe sighed. “I kind of regret ever making contact with her about this. No offense.” He moved to the table, where all his maps were littered, and began rolling them up.

Lara shrugged, and hesitantly moved to help. “None taken. She is an unusual person.”

Howe snorted. “Unusual is an apt word, alright. But I guess that’s what makes her interesting as well. And surprisingly trustworthy.”

“Indeed,” Lara agreed.

They continued packing up in comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello folks! This chapter is only around 50 words shy of 6k, so not quite as long as i was worried about, but still a good deal longer than most chapters here. I hope you forgive me, but splitting this up in two chapers really didn't feel right to me. And I also didn't really want to cut out anything - Marian and Lara needed to have both of these conversations. For one, Lara needed to hear from someone about Kirkwall. And also, Marian is just the right amount of blunt to give Lara a direly necessary push. But for her to accept that, it had to come from someone who really gets the situation. And Marian, Garrett and Varric are just about the only people around up to the task. And Varric isn't going there.
> 
> And i hope you enjoyed the little plottwist with the warden contact :) I had decided to bring in Nathaniel pretty much when I had decided that we have two sets of living Hawke twins. This story is blatant wishfulfillment on my part at this point. It's going to have a bit of a ripple effect that you can see here already, with what he knows and what he doesn't know. I am also shamelessly going to add another warden contact for him to have - and you're free to guess who again.
> 
> So, a big sorry to everyone who kept hoping for Alistair, and a big "you're welcome" as well. I love all the Awakening characters, but Nathaniel was easily one of my favourites. I love his backstory. I loved his cameo in Dragon Age 2 as well, and in my mind, it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship when he returned at the end of the game to help out. 
> 
> Also, Nathaniel is fanservice. For the Leverage-fans out there, I pretty much see him as Christian Kane. There can never be a different casting. From glorious locks to the eyebrow game to his sheer ability to be quiet and competent and broody and funny. But enough of my fangirling. So, yeah. We're gonna enjoy having him around, no doubt.
> 
> Read you again in two weeks, folks! (Hopefully, because teaching from home is killing me.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A World of Difference (Between Us)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444889) by [neverending_shenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverending_shenanigans/pseuds/neverending_shenanigans)


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